


Real Boy

by wirewrappedlily



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: But we all knew that, F/F, F/M, High School AU, M/M, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Tony is a boy wonder, Turns into canon-adjacent, this bitch was a labour of love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-08
Updated: 2013-11-08
Packaged: 2017-12-31 20:49:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1036220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wirewrappedlily/pseuds/wirewrappedlily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Suck it up, buttercup, you're graduating into the life you should start living it now." </p><p>   "Uh-huh, because we get taught so much about paying taxes, balancing check books, managing finances, cooking for ourselves...you know, all those things we really don't need to know in order to be grown up!" </p><p>   Rhodey patted Tony's forehead consolingly, "You own Stark Industries. In all likelihood, you could buy yourself a country." </p><p>   Tony turned to look at Pepper, "I want one--" </p><p>   "No."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Real Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I'm crazy: No, I'm not kidding: Yes, I know it's not finished on FF yet: Yes, I'm still working on it: And, in all likelihood, yeah I forgot half the characters and didn't tag a bunch of relationships. Sorry.

Some days, Tony Stark hated himself for the stupid-ass decisions that had led him here. And then, some days, Tony hated being born. Being born, for Tony, meant one long, never-ending apology to the universe for the grand reveal of the boy genius/punching bag of emotional and physical abuse. He'd had no control of it, he'd had no say in it; were it up to him, Tony honestly thought, more often than not, that he'd chose never to have been born. 

Then maybe his father (sperm donor, more like) wouldn't be so damn eager to run away from his mother (surrogate uterus), to break her heart over and over again. 

It left Tony having chased everyone that was supposed to love him away, and Tony truly regretted breathing in moments like these. 

It'd been one moment of breathlessness as a grinning, vibrant redhead had walked down the sidewalk in a small little white tank top and short, bleached shorts, perfectly at ease and alive and just gorgeous. Tony had decided, in that moment, that, yeah, he would like to try "integrating" into "normal" high school; if only to know that girl's name. 

It was Pepper Potts, and she was class president and cheerleader and valedictorian and would probably grow up to either rule the world or save it. 

And, really, Tony couldn't tell, 'cause he'd never had a best friend before, but Pepper might be turning into his best friend, because she wasn't what he'd wanted after all (and it'd amazed him that she'd looked twice at him, believe you me). Pepper was brilliant, and she could deal with him in ways that he didn't think the robots even could, and she cared. But this was high school; and high school was not created for the right choices to be made, it was created to gnaw and tear at what little humanity--let alone sanity--you had left until you could become a mindless automaton. Tony had one year before he was in MIT; he was 14; and he'd fallen in love with the underdog football quarterback. Tony wasn't even sure that he could find a romantic comedy to compare his life to. 

Steve Rogers, however, had the teen-movie life: he lived with his grandmother, who was kindly and sweet but also kind of a hard-ass that didn't take shit from anyone. Steve had spent most of his life being a twig. The summer between junior and senior year had, apparently, gifted Steve with an Adonis-like body. He'd been determined and scrappy before, from what Tony could gather from Pepper, but after the spurt, he was a god among high school boys. 

"I'm fifteen...fuck, why do you even hang out with me?" 

Pepper snorted from behind her magazine, long, freckled legs thrown over the bed loosely. It was a testament to how right he'd proven his father that Tony wasn't even trying to check out Pep's legs. "I hang out with you because you're fifteen and smarter than the entirety of the student body combined. When you're not whining over your hormones, it makes for a more engrossing conversation than I'm used to." 

Tony narrowed his eyes at the hate. "Hey! I am not whining...speaking of hormones, Steve smiled at you today and your ovaries didn't spontaneously combust. I didn't think the female population was capable of resisting that side-effect." 

"He wasn't smiling at me." Pepper cooed, lifting the magazine marginally higher, hiding behind it. 

Tony's eyebrows pulled together, his mouth tucking at the corners, "But…" Tony kind of cut himself off. He didn't want to continue with the line of thought that he was being dragged towards. It only led to disappointment and heartbreak. He was better off dreaming. 

Pepper lowered her magazine slowly, looking over at him with concern. Tony's knees were curled up to his chest, his arms wrapped securely around them as he looked away. Pepper grabbed up a bouncy ball Tony had actually used the week before to "accidently" smack the homophobic, Tony-hating linebacker in the balls. Pepper chucked it at his back, trying to break him out of the quiet, dark place that she hated. "Hey! I'm not climbing in your brain after you. It's too fucking crowded in there and some of your robots are grabby!" 

Tony flinched, slowly turning back to her, "I love how, in your mind, I'm still in love with you." 

Pepper smirked at him cheekily, "I own your ass, Tony. Don't even play." 

Tony rolled his eyes, "You may own my ass, but he owns my heart." 

Pepper threw something at him with actual intent this time, "You sound like more of a girl than I do." 

Tony was retreating into his head, and Pepper almost kicked herself for that. Tony was young, and he was still somewhere between hating his parents and still caring what they thought of him, no matter how much he'd tried to stop caring by the age of six. Pepper actively hated the Starks for what they'd done to their kid, and she was well aware that she wasn't the only one. "Why did I think high school was a good idea again?" 

"Because you need to wait to be able to grow facial hair to go to college, and you were enamoured of my ass." 

"It was a good idea at the time." 

"Tony, the only reason I don't care that you fell for me and turned out to be gay is because you're in love with Steve Rogers." 

Tony shrugged, smirking devilishly up at her, "Yeah, but also 'cause I'm adorable." 

~

Admittedly, Clint Barton spent a lot of time in the principal's office. But, contrary to popular belief, it wasn't because he had a secret liaison with the one-eyed bastard that sat in the seat of dickitude: it was because he was trying to cultivate a liaison with the smart, efficient man that ran ship for O He of the Mightiest of Dicks. Principal Fury made him seriously consider all the ways he could kill the bastard (yes, he watched too much CSI, but it was either that or actually doing his Physics), and Vice Principal Hill was the prettiest hag Clint had ever seen. But the man that made everything in this fucking school run smoothly was Secretary Phil Coulson. Every time Clint slipped through the door, a look of tight disapproval flashed over Coulson's features, and it was just so enticing, because it only took a little push to get it from proper to proprietary, and Clint figured he could probably get Coulson to be bad in all sorts of ways. The suit-and-ties were always the most fun to undo. 

Clint had to simply bide his time before he made his shot, the perfect moment to rattle Coulson to the core would come, he had no doubt. 

Clint wanted to rattle Coulson, and he didn't: Coulson was the one person he could trust, always, to be steady and stable and there when Clint needed him. It was part of wanting Coulson to the point of pain. He was the steadiest presence that had ever graced Clint's life. Safe and smooth and both accepting him and encouraging him to be a better man at the same time. Clint hated and loved it. Coulson understood him better than he did himself sometimes, he could tell. 

It meant that Clint had at least one person he could go to; he could trust. And it meant that, when the chips were well and truly down--and they really were now, Clint knew that much--there was only one place he felt even remotely steady in heading to. 

Coulson heaved a sigh as Clint limped in this time, his lip bloody and a gash over his eyebrow, "What happened this time, Mister Barton?" 

Clint felt nauseous at the taste of his blood in the back of his throat, dangerously close to the edge; dangerously close to telling Phil the truth. 

Phil had lost his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves, the first aid pack in his hands as he crossed to help Clint, and that's when Clint's knees chose to go on him. He couldn't help the hiss of pain he let out as Phil's firm, warm hand closed over his arm, propelling him to stay upright and on his feet, pushing him towards the chairs, "What happened, Clint?" The words were gruffer, strained, but the same tone and volume. Clint felt something painful snap at his chest. 

Clint collapsed into the chair, wincing at every jostle and movement, his eyes pinched and his torn lip almost between his teeth before it stung him again. Phil's concerned, hazel eyes shone down on him and he looked...honest and worried and every one of the carefully crafted defenses Clint had set up was suddenly being taken down with a sledgehammer. 

"Who did this?" Phil whispered, looking at him instead of what his hands were automatically doing with the first aid kit. 

"M-My foster...f-foster father…" Clint watched rage bloom behind Coulson's carefully composed face, and the gentle, firm hands cleaning him up felt safe and scary and like home all at the same time. 

He was too tired and too hurt to decipher all of this; he couldn't quantify a damn thing. But when Coulson was done, he didn't leave Clint's side for a moment, drawing out his cell and silently scrolling through his contacts. 

"Wh-Who're...you…?" 

"My sister works for Family and Child Services. I'm calling her, because you're coming home with me." 

Clint's heart was too busy exploding warmth through his body to register the pang of dread. 

~

"Dibs." Darcy's grip on Jane's arm was beginning to hurt to the point where Jane was beginning to worry that those damn neon-coloured talons of Darcy's would pierce the skin. 

A damn near seven-foot wall of blond, tanned muscle was striding through the hallway towards Jane like he was on a mission and Jane was either having a hot flash or she was having a short, private, tropical vacation. 

"Swoon." Darcy crooned in her ear, and Jane had to make a concerted effort to make sure her jaw wasn't on the floor. And then the giant puppy of blond perfection and easy-going over-happiness was smiling at her, and she needed the locker she was leaning on or she'd be a puddle of goo on the floor. 

A happy puddle, but a puddle nonetheless. 

"Greetings," Jane coloured at the deep, booming voice, the accent, "could you tell me where to find one Jane Foster?" 

Darcy was getting shorter beside her. She was melting. Well, as long as she didn't melt, they were good. "I-I'm Jane Foster. Hi." She smiled, trying to be winning. She wasn't an entire nerd, but she wasn't exactly Pepper Potts-popular, either. 

He smiled even wider, and Darcy was holding her upright now, or clinging onto her for dear life, either way, "I am Thor." He said, as if that answered every question he could have about him. 

"Thor...Oh! Oh, yeah! You're my exchanged student--well, not mine, but...you're, um...you're staying with me, right?" If she turned any brighter pink, she may pass out from blood flow.

"I believe so, yes." Thor was still smiling, and there was either pity or fondness in his eyes, and Jane was just not qualified to deal with that right now. 

A giant crash caught their attention--caught everyone's attention--as Tony Stark, the little fifteen-year-old genius, was thrown backwards into the lockers hard enough to dent them. Jane and Darcy gasped, both getting their hackles up as the football team bared down on him. 

"Hey!" Someone behind them shouted, and Steve Rogers, object of lust and obsession to every girl in the school, came out of the woodwork, his muscles tensed and his eyes infuriated as he strode towards his team. 

The football players backed off, and Steve knelt next to Tony, trying to help him upright. Jane's heart broke as Tony, probably close to shock, lashed out at Steve, bashing himself back against the lockers as he tried to get away from the large, strong hands going for his insanely thin and breakable body. Tony got himself on his feet and running in record time, shoulders slumped and head down as he went for the washrooms, and Steve watched after him, hurt and heartbroken. 

"Welcome to America, land of the high school clichés." Darcy grumbled, and Jane could almost hear her holding back a rhetorical wish to go comfort Steve. 

Steve looked like a lost puppy, big blue eyes sad as he continued to stare after Tony's trail, the boy long gone. The hallway didn't move around him for a long moment, everyone seeming to hold their breath for something to happen, and then it was all gone, and Steve was just standing in the bustling hallway, looking down at the two drops of blood that Tony's nose had left on the floor, looking disgusted and angry and sad in a way that could only be protective of Tony. 

"I do not understand." Thor intoned, and Jane got the sense that normal-volume for everyone else was almost a whisper for him. 

"Come with us to Rexah's diner for lunch, I'll tell you to the whole sordid tale." Darcy chirped. Thor was being almost dragged away by Darcy, but Jane took long enough to turn that she saw Pepper Potts headed for the bathroom Tony had fled into--despite it being the boys' bathroom--and Steve looking up at her. 

There was such an apology in his eyes that Jane wondered how Pepper could keep the cool, almost-icy demeanour as she shoved her way through the door and turned the other cheek to Steve's gaze. 

In the words of Darcy: High school was fucking complicated. 

"Just lock the goddamn door, please." Tony begged, wheezy and pained. Pepper stopped short, turning to do as he asked before moving further into the washroom, trying to see Tony, to make sure he was going to be okay. "Took less time than usual." Tony commented flippantly, and Pepper knew he was talking about her arrival.

"Yeah, well, I was at your locker." 

Tony snorted and chuckled, the sound wet and too breathy, "I thought you were trying to keep us under wraps, Pep." 

Pepper outright scowled, looking at Tony as he tried to stop his nose from gushing blood, "I don't care who knows we’re friends, Tony, never have. You're the one that wanted to keep it quiet." 

"B-Best way to keep your reputation intact…" Tony had wetness in his eyes, evidence on his cheeks, and he was trying to hold it together right now by a very breakable silver thread. 

Pepper took the glob of paper towel from him, carefully wiping away blood and angling Tony's head back to slow the flow of the blood out of his nose, "Was it the football team?" Tony nodded slowly, and Pepper felt pure ire rising in her. "I guess now's as good a time as any to make sure they don't get laid for the next three months." Tony broke into laughter, his face cracking into an honest smile despite the pain, and Pepper smiled at him in return, kissing his forehead sweetly and drawing him into a hug. Tony was so much younger than everyone else, it was so hard to remember that sometimes, and Pepper hated it that those dicks either forgot or didn't care. "I'll get the other cheerleaders into a big chastity kick. We both know that they're too stupid not to follow the leader." 

Tony smiled appreciatively, but he still looked like a kicked puppy, "I shouldn't be here." 

Pepper isn't stupid. She's so far from stupid, in fact, that Tony can put up with her for hours at a time and call her his friend--of which, he thinks he has two--and she cares about him enough to have gotten to know him better than anyone in his life could boast before. She knew that those words weren't about the boys' bathroom or the high school. She knew it went so far beyond that. She was perfectly aware of this, and yet, she couldn't do a damn thing to stop it or change it. She was stuck. 

"And you should be in AP English, Potts. I'm good here, get lost." 

Even Pepper didn't love him enough to know when to hang on tighter when he gave them a chance to let go. 

~

"I don't understand what you're telling me here, Steve." Bruce admitted sheepishly, his shrunken stance and pitiful demeanour shouting that he was uncomfortable being such a nerd around such a jock to everyone who didn't know they were just about brothers (read: everyone). 

Steve honestly couldn't have waited until they got home for this freak out, and he was just thankful that that Jane girl and her mouthy attachment had taken the new guy off-campus for lunch instead of lurking in the lab. "I don't know what to do! I...I can't watch him get beaten up like that, but if I tell them off, they're going to figure out I'm gay--" 

"Steve, remember being the little guy last year? Remember the fight you got into when they tried to do that to me this year? You're not going to be ousted from the closet for fighting this, you know, though outting yourself would make the fight a little less...futile." Bruce shrugged, shaking his head, and to anyone else it would look like he was refusing to do Steve's homework or something like that, "You can stand up for this, but I can tell you now, it won't work as well as you want it to. Tony's younger and he's smarter than everyone else. And...Steve, I honestly think he's being abused…" Steve locked down, just like Bruce knew he would, and Bruce reached out a calming hand for his arm, "Steve, I don't think it's physical--" 

"I don't care that it's not physical! It's still wrong. He's...He's brilliant and he's beautiful, and it drives me fucking crazy that I seem to be the only one who sees that!" Bruce's mouth dropped open with an audible pop. 

"I have never heard you swear before…" 

"Yeah, well." Steve's eyebrows drew together, scowling at nothing, "Don't tell Grams." Bruce grinned behind him, and Steve shook his head, letting it fall forward and his eyes close, "I'm going crazy, Bruce. What do you do if you're breaking your heart by doing nothing, or breaking your body by doing something?" 

"Steve, don't hit me--" 

Steve looked at Bruce sharply, and Bruce had to put the memory behind him when he'd just been joking. 

"I think Tony needs to be put out of your mind. For now, at the very least. Please?" Bruce honestly loved him like a blood-brother, and he couldn't be more thankful for the short, scrawny guy he'd befriended in kindergarten; the guy that had stood up to his dad and had stopped the abuse and given him a stable, loving home without a second thought about it. 

"It's hard when he's about the only thing bouncing around in there." Steve mumbled, desolate. 

Bruce rolled his eyes, "I know. I've seen your sketchbook." Steve flinched a little, surprised to hear that Tony was in his sketchbook. Bruce's eyes widened in something close to pity, his forehead wrinkling with it, "You know what? You're having trouble in math, right?" Steve nodded, his face bordering horrified, "You want to be close to him so bad, this should be good. And it's not like your life could get any more cliché than you being the surprise quarterback and then dating your geeky maths tutor." 

Steve was turning crimson, even his ears burning with something between anger and embarrassment, and he was thanking his adoptive brother as much as he was cursing his total existence. 

"Besides, Tony's trying to get me to talk his best friend out of joining the army." 

"What, why?" Steve's forehead furrowed further, and Bruce wondered how he didn't already have wrinkles. 

"Because his old man is Howard Stark, Steve. No one else on campus put it together, but he's Howard Stark's kid." 

Steve felt like he'd been kicked in the gut. "I-I thought…" 

"Yeah, everyone thought the infamous Stark boy is off on some remote private school that has its own island taking grade five for the eighth time over. He decided to come here for his last year of high school." Bruce shrugged, and Steve looked somehow even more pensive. "Tony doesn't want it out that he's attending here, though. He's been kidnapped from more secure schools than this, apparently." 

Steve seethed, his blue eyes blazing, "If I just walked up to him and kissed him stupid--" 

"He's a child prodigy. Kissing him stupid may not be possible." 

Steve's lips twitched up, "--if I just walked up to him and...what would happen, do you think?" 

"His bodyguard might come out of nowhere and drop you like a tazed football quarterback...oh, wait." 

Steve huffed a sigh that was really more of a laugh, rolling his eyes, "I-I don't know. If he's tutoring me in math…" 

"You won't seem...too stupid to him. He's a genius, so you may be a little bit of an idiot, but everyone is." Steve shot him a doubting look, and Bruce smiled, "I told him what I was working towards for university. He came back to me an hour later with more knowledge on the effects of gamma rays on genetically-enhanced proteins than I've ever heard from one source. I looked up most of what he was talking about, and three of the theories he'd mentioned were rumoured to have brought to light by a child-prodigy just hours before I'd looked them up." 

Steve looked grim, and Bruce shrugged. 

"He's not a bad guy. Misunderstood, generally, but once you get past him being a defensive ass, he's actually...kinda decent."

"Being smart's never easy." Steve grumbled.

Bruce snorted, shaking his head, "Being smart's the easiest thing in the goddamn world, Steve. It's surviving being smart that gets tricky." 

~

Tony narrowed his eyes at Bruce, a little suspicious, "So, you have a secret brother--" 

"Who you already knew about."

"--And you're kidnapping me from mechanics club to meet him and your secret Grams, at your secret home…" 

"Actually, you'll be meeting my secret brother here. He's gonna drive us to my secret home since we're all playing hooky from our clubs and...teams." 

Tony's head snapped up from his phone at that, and it was like a nightmare that the crowd parted and there stood Steve Rogers. Tony felt like he'd been punched in the chest, his eyes going wide. "Um...Y-Your…" 

"Steve took me in when we were in kindergarten. Tony, breathe, he doesn't nerd-bash. He kind of was one of us." Bruce turned, walking backwards to talk Tony through putting one foot in front of the other. "He...He was actually hoping you could help him with his AP Algebra." Tony shot him a look and Bruce shrugged, "You've never needed help on an experiment before?" 

"The last time I got help on an experiment it was because I was too young to solder on my own." Tony grumbled sullenly, and Bruce gave him a look that clearly read "play nice, assface", so Tony Stark turned on the old Stark charm at the drop of a hat, and Bruce nearly lost his stride. Tony felt similarly afflicted as Steve smiled shyly at him, edgy and obviously nervous about being seen with two complete dorks. "Hi, I'm Tony." 

"N-Nice to meet you, I'm...Steve Rogers." Colour flooded Steve's cheeks, his head ducking with the realization that yeah, Tony knew that. 

"Nice car." Tony's voice was dripping with sarcastic venom to everyone but those who knew him best; those that knew that a spliced-together Frankenstein of a car made him want to take it apart to figure out what parts belonged to what. Steve blushed hard, and Tony had to backtrack a little to try to sort out when, exactly, the captain of the football team started blushing like a schoolgirl. Surely he would have heard about it. 

"It, um...It was my grandfather's." Steve sounded shakier than the vibrator Tony had given Rhodey for his birthday and turned on in the middle of the pile of presents he was opening with his family. Tony had nearly died doing that, but it had been totally worth it. 

"He was a mechanic?" Tony asked easily, distracted by the car. 

"He worked at the factory, he just...tinkered, sometimes." 

Tony smiled, "Tinkering is the best thing in the world." Tony slipped his sunglasses on, almost startled when Bruce crossed behind Steve to get in the back, leaving Tony to take the front or make a fool of himself by getting in the back with him. 

Cursing silently, Tony climbed into the front, his face feeling hot. He pulled his phone back out, calling off his bodyguards and telling his caretakers that he wouldn't be home and that he wasn't in danger. He took a quick picture of himself and Bruce, an approved friend that they wouldn't worry about, and turned his phone promptly off. Steve was watching him, and he felt like he'd be blushing if he were the type to. "Sorry, I have to appease the timeliness Nazis at home. If I don't show up for dinner, the National Guard is called." 

"He knows who you are, Tony." 

"You...are a total traitor, Banner, I...am so very disappointed in you." Tony turned in his seat, scowling over the top of his sunglasses. 

Steve smiled slightly, "I'm the only one, don't worry. And your secret is safe with me." 

"Last time someone said that to me they turned around and told their secret brother." Tony grumbled, slumped in the massive front seat. 

"Would it make you feel any better if I told you that it was under extreme duress that he told me?" 

"What, did you short-sheet his bed?" 

"Nah, Grams would kill me if I tried that." 

"She dislikes conflict with us." Bruce said observationally, as if it were an interesting science experiment. 

"Well, yeah, you're freakishly strong when you get angry." Steve snorted. 

Tony smiled, turning to look at Bruce as he shrugged. "It's in my genetics." Bruce's voice was completely unemotional, and Tony almost wanted to squirm. 

Steve pulled into a loose gravel driveway, up to a ramshackle, homey, white house with chipped blue trim. There was a load of whites hanging out on the line to dry and Tony felt as if he'd stepped into a cliché like it was coming off the pages of a storybook and bleeding over into reality. 

Steve's Grams emerged from the bowels of the house and Tony had never seen a woman more beautiful or more intimidating for her age. Her hair was wild, but caught back as much as it could be into a long plait, streaks of white fanning through the dirty-blond, plump enough that she was almost unwrinkled, but still healthy and bursting through with life. Tony wished she was his grandmother so acutely he almost didn't want to meet her. 

"Hello, sweet boy. Did you have a good day?" She asked expansively to Steve, tipping her head back to peck his cheek as he hugged her. 

"Yeah. Grams, Bruce and I brought a friend--" 

She smiled, and Tony thought he was going to go blind. She was so obviously Steve's blood that it was amazing that there weren't more headlines of Greek Gods walking the streets of their little Podunk town. "Hi, honey, I'm Greta Rogers, Steve's grams." 

"T-Tony Stark…" Tony blushed hard, and Greta's brilliantly blue eyes flashed recognition for the barest of moments, but her smile didn't falter for a second. "It's nice to meet you." 

"You are thin as a rail, honey, let's get you some food. Steve needs more food than the whole damn football team for that metabolism of his." Greta rolled her eyes, smiling as Steve ducked his head and blushed, "I made iced tea and cookies. I'll have to make another batch, maybe you boys could help me with that." 

"Bruce, you have biology homework, but you can watch." Steve said steadily, Bruce cracking up as Greta moved around Steve to give him a kiss, too. Steve turned to Tony with a conspirational glint in his eye, "Bruce's last forray into the kitchen ended up in mac 'n' cheese that resembled some sort of toxic waste." 

"No, dear, we'll never let you live that one down." Greta wrapped a willowy arm around Bruce's shoulders, smiling gently. Bruce smiled back, and it was more honest than Tony had ever seen. 

"Thank you. Cookies would be wonderful." Tony felt his face heating again--maybe he was getting sick?

"Come on in, honey, we'll put some meat on those bones." Greta murmured smoothly, ushering them inside. 

Steve touched Tony's lower back gently, guiding, and Tony hissed in pain, the bruises from colliding with the locker still tender. Steve pulled his hand away, looking sharply at Tony, "Are you…?" 

"Just...a little bruised." Tony winced, and Steve's scowl was etched into his eyebrows, "I'll be fine--" 

"Tony...would...d'you mind if I take a look? I've been thrown into those lockers, I know what damage they can do." Tony was almost in shock at that, confused even though he really wasn't. He'd known Steve had been the little guy; the underdog. But hearing Steve offering him the kindness of making sure he was okay...it was mind-boggling. Steve didn't let him answer (good, 'cause he could lay dollars to doughnuts that his voice wouldn't work), pulling him into a prim and sweet guest room. 

"I-I...um…" Steve was the colour of a spring rose, even the tips of his ears burning, and Tony's protests died. Steve was just as uncomfortable asking Tony to let him look at his back as Tony was to allow it, which, all at once, made Tony completely give in. Tony winced as he slipped his jacket off, and when he hissed trying to twist enough to take off his shirt, Steve rushed to help him, complete concern shining in his eyes. 

"Oh, God…" Steve breathed, his eyes huge and horrified, "Tony, just...stay here for a sec, I should get the first aid pack. I-I think your ribs are broken." The horror on Steve's face made something in Tony's throat tight and twisted. "We...we have compression bandages…stuff for the bruises, too. J-Just...stay there." Tony was in shock still, but he would've run if he weren't. 

Steve came back in with iced tea and the first aid pack, but Bruce and Greta left them be. Tony felt painful gratitude rise in his chest at that, his eyes starting to sting. 

"You're fifteen, right?" 

Tony nodded, swallowing thickly, "Yeah." He prayed, fervently, that Steve didn't see how bad his hands were shaking as he brought the glass of cool, sweet tea to his lips. 

Steve was unintentionally close to his skin as he looked over Tony's wounds, his breath tickling against the skin as he gently rubbed cream over Tony's bruises, "Did Pepper help you hide the bruises on your face?" Steve asked quietly, his brilliantly blue eyes sparkling with sadness. Tony shook his head, and Steve's expression darkened. 

"My mom wouldn't let me come to school if she knew…" Tony told him, voice just below a whisper. 

"Why do you come to school?" Steve asked quietly, his forehead almost resting against Tony's. 

"Because…" Tony trailed off, his lips moving forward of their own accord to press lightly to Steve's. For one horrifying moment, protracted to forever in his mind because it would be the last moment he'd have Steve's lips against his, surely, Tony kissed Steve without Steve kissing back. 

He was going to be killed. Steve was going to tell his football buddies, or, worse, kill him himself. Or Tony would finally give in to the hate-on the universe has for him and do the deed himself; face up to his fate like a real man, finally a real man--

Steve made a small, broken sound, and Tony's mouth was suddenly under assault, Steve's arms bracketing him, too careful of his bruises and scrapes. Tony felt his cheeks flood colour as he kissed; he'd never really been kissed before. 

Steve slowly ended the kiss, chuckling gently as he kept Tony's lip for a moment before letting him have it back, "You're sure you're fifteen?" 

Tony laughed, nodding as he looked up at Steve through the curtain of his eyelashes, "I-I've had a crush on you for months…" Tony wrinkled his nose, casting his eyes down. Steve made a purring sound almost, leaning forward and pressing his lips softly to the corner of Tony's mouth, hushing him. 

"Me, too, Tony." He whispered the secret against Tony's cheek, and Tony went in for another kiss. 

"Steve!" Greta yelled, and Tony and Steve broke apart, both flushed and embarrassed. Greta came to the doorway, her eyes sad and awash with concern, "Steve, Clint's father just called asking if he was here. I told him he was, but--" 

"Clint wouldn't risk ticking him off by not being home." Steve finished, his cheeks paling and his eyes taking on the same concern. He turned his head to Tony, his eyes flicking down to Tony's swollen and red lips, "I'm sorry, I have to try to find him…" 

"I'll go with you." Tony offered, and Steve smiled in response, a fuzzy, warm feeling budding in Tony's chest at the sight. 

"I'm going to go down to Marson's field and make sure he's not on that damn bow and arrow." Bruce told them easily, slipping into his jacket. 

Steve and Tony headed out, Steve throwing his letterman's jacket over Tony's shoulders, grabbing his own worn leather jacket. "Clint's foster dad gets drunk a lot…" 

"Clint's pretty tough." 

Steve and he joined hands, Steve recognizing the platitude and taking comfort in it. "We'll find him." 

"He doesn't have a phone?" Tony checked, and Steve looked a little reluctant. 

"Neither do Bruce or I. Grams only gives us hers if she's worried about us." Steve told him sheepishly. 

Tony bit his lip, "Here I thought Bruce didn't want to give me his number because I drive him crazy enough in class." 

Steve heard the self-deprecation and scowled slightly, "Bruce likes you." 

"There's a difference between liking me and actually wanting to have me around." Tony mumbled the words almost inaudibly, but, somehow, Steve heard him. 

"Tony, I want to have you around." Steve told him quietly. 

"You're the exception, not the rule." The millisecond those words left his lips, he wanted them back. Steve looked horrified, pulling the car over and turning to look at him head-on, concern and disbelief in his eyes, "Steve, I--" 

"Tony, everyone in your life--every damn person--must be an absolute fucking idiot."

"You haven't even spent that much time with me!" 

"No, I haven't, but, Tony...Actually, I like this. You and I are gonna spend the weekend together." 

"B-But…" 

"Look, I'll set up a tent in the backyard for the three of us, or I can come by and get you every morning and drop you home every night." 

"I-I'd...I'd like the tent...If Bruce…" 

"So long as you don't snore, he'll be okay." Steve assured with a smile, kind of relieved to have a chaperone around. "He gets downright nasty when he's tired." 

"I think I witnessed him without coffee, once. Yeah, that was scary…" Tony agreed, grinning. He didn't want to let himself believe this was real, not for a moment. Maybe he had a concussion? Maybe he'd slipped into a coma and he was just having a really, really good dream while they carted him off to the hospital? 

"Grams disallowed all all-nighters after he throttled a guy for copying off his exam in eighth grade science." Tony winced around his appreciative smile, and the corners of Steve's lips were twitching inextricably upwards. 

"You know what, I don't doubt it. Bruce is a scary bastard when he wants to be."

"He goes by the motto 'speak softly and carry a large stick'; he knows how to be intimidating." Steve shrugged. 

Tony's mouth twisted, his brows drawing together, "Steve...Steve, isn't that Clint?" Steve followed the angle of Tony's pointing finger to the driveway of Clint's house. 

Clint had his arms full of a dufflebag, and he was trying to stay on his feet as he stumbled towards an expansive black car, Phil Coulson storming towards his foster father, a presence so vast and overtaking that the drunk was actually losing his stride at the mere sight of him. The anger that rolled off of Coulson's shoulders was enough to make Tony's stomach clench, watching in wonder as Coulson blocked a wild punch, stepping into it and taking the larger man down. Phil turned to Clint, pulling him to his feet and helping him stow away his bag, one hand on Clint's back, steadying and protective. 

The drunk bleeding into his grass groaned, making an overture to get up. Phil was a guardian angel at Clint's back, a coil of tightly controlled rage and strength. "If you try to get up, I will drop you so fast you will never get your feet back under you." Coulson told him smoothly, voice unfeeling and so completely straight that it was somehow more intimidating than it would have been had he allowed his voice to be furious. 

Clint looked up at him with something close to hero-worship in his eyes, and he wanted to hug Coulson so badly that his throat was constricting. He was finally safe. 

"You can't take him!" 

"You're not keeping him." Coulson said simply and softly, bringing Clint around the car and depositing him in the passenger seat. 

The bastard did get up, and Coulson was in his space, staring him down with fiery eyes. Coulson pressed slowly forward, forcing him back unsteadily, pushing him to the ground without having to lay a hand on him. Coulson slipped into the driver's side, looking over worriedly at Clint for a moment before he roared the car to life, screeching out of there like a bat out of Hell. 

Clint was shaking and sweating like he was fevered, his eyes dull and distant, and his body taught with fear. Coulson drove halfway across town and stopped, turning to look at Clint in the dim light of the console. Phil knew he shouldn't...but Clint needed it. He needed something to hold on to. He needed something that wouldn't hurt him or throw him away. 

Leaning over the console between them, Phil pulled Clint's tense body against his, hugging tight, "You are safe now." Phil's voice was rough with the passion he had to making those words true, one hand resting on the back of Clint's neck, rubbing softly, "You're staying with me, and you're safe." 

Clint made a broken sound, and Phil felt the wet against his neck, Clint's body jerking with Clint's fight to get it to release, with his fight to get his arms around Phil in return. For a long time, Phil simply sat there, holding on to Clint and rubbing his hair absently. 

Clint's stomach protested, and Phil loosened his hold just a little, "Let's go home. I'll order a pizza." Clint nodded against Coulson's collarbone, and Phil released him entirely, seeing the crack in Clint's mask, but knowing that it was good that it was there. "Um...before we get there, though...there's someone I need to tell you about." 

"Y-You're married?" Clint croaked, and Phil passed it off as being ripple-effect from his being so vulnerable. 

"No. No, I'm not married," he really couldn't excuse how quickly he answered that, though, "I'm...well, I'm a guardian of a girl about your age named Natasha. She--uh...she's been through a lot. She's not...used to being around people." 

Clint smirked at him, "Coulson, this is the most shaken-up I've ever heard you get." 

Phil cocked an eyebrow, one half of his mouth twisting just slightly down, "She was...basically, she was trained as a child-soldier or spy--" 

"How did you get custody, then?" 

Phil hid his flash of pride that that would be the first thing that Clint asked, "I have some friends in high places, and I'm one of two people she didn't try to initially kill for taking her off her mission." Phil glanced at Clint, "She's stopped that, she's beginning to get used to...not having a constant purpose...but she's still pretty odd." 

Clint took that in stride, shrugging just slightly, "Okay." He caught Phil's twitch of a glance--as close as Phil ever came to a double take--and smiled slightly, "Actually, if I were a brutally trained assassin trying to come off the life with no home or family to speak of, I'd want you to be the one to take care of me, too." 

Phil felt a bit of warmth at that. He nodded quietly, just a little, and Clint knew it was a 'thank you', because he always knew Coulson and his tells, and that should have really freaked Phil out more than it did. 

"Just tell me she doesn’t like any freaky stuff on her pizza. Or anchovies." 

It was like Coulson had been waiting for the smart-ass in Clint to awaken, and he let out a breath of relief that could not be mistaken for a laugh. 

Clint smirked to himself, showing off dimples, "I knew I'd get you." 

Coulson shook his head slowly, letting relief take his tension away. 

~

Pepper watched the brunette bombshell that was Peggy Carter smiling at laughing at Steve as Pepper lounged across the bleachers with Tony, her cast-encased leg resting over his thighs and the both of them staring at the field as if transfixed. 

Pepper only just stopped herself from chasing her straw like an idiot, blinking and looking down to actually get the tube, "See something you like, Potts?" 

"I think I'm a little in awe of how your new beau managed to get you to actually come out into the sunlight, Stark." Pepper answered coolly, reaching down to steal fries that they both knew he'd freely give her. 

"Well, if you were dating an ass like that, you would risk skin cancer, too." A moment later, when Pepper snapped back out of watching Peggy do her high kick, Tony was staring at her, smirking. "Liking the fresh blood?" 

Pepper felt her cheeks redden. "I need Rhodey here to run interference from your delusions. I am injured. He should take pity on the injured and be here." 

Tony shrugged, leaning back expansively and sighing as he brought his soda up to his lips, "He's talking to Bruce Banner the second his plane lands." 

"That's not going to work, you know. It'll just piss them both off--"

"Pep, Rhodey has been best friends with me since we were six. He doesn't get pissed off. But I'm hoping that Bruce's passionate enough that it makes him think. Rhodey needs to think about what he's doing with his life, in a not-throwing-it-away capacity." 

Pepper raised one honey-coloured eyebrow, "You do know that Steve's signing up to join, too, right?" The way Tony locked down, frozen, told her everything. "Tony--" 

"Don't." Tony's voice was so rough that she snapped her mouth closed, "Don't tell me to be supportive. I've been to warzones." Tony slid out from under her leg, and Pepper watched, slack-jawed, as he left. A change on the field pulled her attention to Steve, his face a mask of puppy-esque worry as he watched Tony go, too. Pepper and he locked eyes briefly, and she knew that a conversation was in order, best friend to boyfriend, because Tony keeping stuff bottled up usually led to self-destruction if Rhodey was to be believed. 

Pepper sighed, miserable. Now she couldn't even enjoy watching cheerleading practice fuck up without her. 

"Excuse me." If that accent belonged to who she thought it belonged to, Pepper was well and truly fucked. 

...It was. Peggy; red-lipped, wavy-curled Peggy, was smiling down at Pepper, her perfectly sculpted eyebrows drawn up just slightly, "Um...hi." 

Peggy had dimples. Pepper was going to kill herself, because Peggy had dimples, "My name is Peggy Carter, I'm one of the foreign exchange students…" 

"You're from England?" 

"Yes. But what I wanted to talk to you about was the squad. You were captain…" 

"I was, yes. I guess I'm not anymore, though." Pepper shrugged, really not minding that turn of events. She glanced down at her leg, her lips tucked at the corners, "You're good, though. They need someone with a strong hand, or they're useless, but I think you'll make a good leader." Pepper tucked a long, almost-blond lock of hair back behind her ear, all business, and silently cursed that she turned off all charm when confronted with people she liked. 

"I'm not exactly captain, but I think it's the way I'm headed." Peggy told her, head a little ducked. 

"Well, I'll help you in any and every way I can." Pepper said smoothly, the same voice she used when she was talking to Tony's parents, overly perky, but, for once, not fake. 

"Th-Thank you--" 

"Pepper!" Steve called, finally free of the skirmish and jogging up towards them. 

Pepper straightened herself out a little more, taking full advantage of that opportunity, and gestured from Peggy to Steve, "Steve, this is Peggy Carter. Peggy, this is Steve Rogers." Steve spared her a short smile and a handshake before turning worried blue eyes back on Pepper. She shrugged, holding up her hands. "I don't know. He said something he didn't want to say. Even I don't know where he goes when he does that." 

Steve's brow furrowed, "What did he say?"

Pepper glanced at Peggy, but only missed a beat, "He said that he's been to a warzone...that's why he doesn't want anyone he loves in the army." Steve's eyes widened, his head rising, and his body locking down for escape. 

He nodded to Peggy and Pepper, sprinting down the bleachers even as his team called after him. "I'm sorry, was it about that black-haired boy you were sitting with?" 

"Yes...Tony. Steve and he are friends." 

"It looked like it was more than that." Peggy smiled quietly, "But you don't have to worry, I will keep it secret. Though you might find it prudent to talk to Steve about doing the same." With a small twitch of her ruby lips, Peggy stood, passing quietly by two very large football players headed for Pepper. Happy Hogan smiled at her, leaning down slightly. 

"Steve asked us to help you out." Happy told her, and Pepper squeaked in shock as he took one side and the other jock took the other, lifting her easily between them and carrying her down the steps of the bleachers. 

"Th-Thank you." Pepper squeaked, and Happy smiled good-naturedly, trotting up the steps again to bring down her crutches. 

"The kid you were sitting with, Tony Stark?" Pepper nodded, unease spreading through her as Happy met her eyes, "Steve mentioned that he gets beat up a lot by the other guys, that true?" Pepper nodded again, "I think my locker's near his. I'll watch out for him." 

Pepper's lips twitched, "Did Steve ask you to?" 

Happy's ears coloured a little red, "Yeah, but it's still wrong that they do shit like that." Pepper couldn't help her smile blossoming over her features. 

"Thank you." Happy smiled shyly at her in return, looking at her from under his lashes. "I need all the help with Tony I can get." 

~

Coulson's brow furrowed at the sight of Clint Barton lounging over the chairs in the office, one arm tucked under his head as a pillow and the other hand folded neatly over his eyes. 

"What are you doing here, Mr. Barton?" 

Clint smiled under the mask of his hand, slowly drawing it back to look up at Phil's perplexed expression. "I have no idea. I wasn't even misbehaving today. I was being a good little boy, we were getting our marks back from designing our own pneumatic devices, and I was asked to come here and wait. Sitwell's been in talking to Fury since class ended." 

Phil bit back a reprimand to use the proper titles, glancing down at his watch, "You can go get your lunch from your locker--" Phil caught the flicker of amusement over Clint's features, and his frown deepened, "You didn't bring a lunch, did you?" 

"I don't get hungry." Phil's eyes narrowed, and Clint knew, with no small flash of guilt, that he could hear the "anymore" in the words. 

"In case you hadn't noticed, you have full access to my kitchen and there is enough food in there for a hockey team. I won't have you taken out of my custody because you drop from malnutrition." 

Clint blushed just slightly, and Coulson walked around his desk, stooping to grab something, which he tossed at Clint. Clint looked down at the submarine in his hands, Phil's lunch. 

"Eat up, Barton." 

The words "thank you" were on Clint's lips as he watched Phil sweep back out of the office with gratitude shining in his eyes. 

Clint was called into Fury's office as he downed the last of it, Coulson sweeping back in with another sub and two bottles of iced tea, one of which he tossed to Clint. 

For a full twenty, glorious minutes, Phil Coulson got to eat his lunch and wonder what the hell was going on with the principal and his latest charge. 

At five seconds after that twentieth minute, Clint exploded, and Coulson was on his feet and in Fury's office, catching Clint's arm before he hurt himself. Clint was red; a bright, furious red of bulging veins and tensed muscles, "As Clint Barton's legal guardian, I demand to know what's been going on here." 

Fury gathered himself behind his desk, looking just as jovial as he always did--which is to say, he looked like he was going to put Clint's head through the glass window beside his door. "Mr. Sitwell is...concerned...that Mr. Barton's latest work in his class--" 

"They're accusing me of cheating for a lousy fucking grade." Clint spat. Fury looked even more displeased. Coulson simply looked blank. 

It was the kind of blank that had been there the other night when a man twice his size had ended up bleeding into his own front lawn from one punch. It was a dangerous blank, and Fury had enough experience to know that. 

Coulson was ruthlessly efficient, and fiercely protective of the few he deemed worth the time. It was starting to dawn on Fury that Clint fit that particular descriptor. "I assume that Mr. Sitwell has looked into this, found the original of the assignment, and has proof to substantiate his claim--which could get a young man expelled." His voice was flat, unfeeling, but even Fury could hear the emphasis, and Clint started to shake just a little bit less. "And, I assume you weren't about to pursue that particular course of disciplinary action without proof." 

Sitwell looked stupidly incensed, "I don't have time--" 

Never argue with Phil Coulson, "You don't have time to substantiate claims that would jeopardize a young man's entire future, but you have time to look up cartoon porn on student computers and leave them riddled with viruses." It wasn't a question at all. Coulson said it with the deadly clarity of a man that knew exactly what was going on behind the scenes, and he was more than prepared to kill with what he knew, "You have no right to have brought Mr. Barton in here for this...persecution. He is a bright young man, and I saw those plans myself. I watched him drawing them out. You owe him an apology, and you owe Principal Fury a resignation, as far as I'm concerned. And, just to be perfectly clear, you will find your replacement--a replacement I approve of--before your two weeks of notice are through." 

Clint watched Phil rattle off the threat in a tightly controlled, perfectly clear voice, and he could instantly believe that no one would ever want to be on Coulson's bad side. 

"Now, Nick, if you'll excuse me, Clint will be taking the rest of the day as his final class is three-quarters through." 

"You can finish up and go with him, Phil. Enjoy your weekend." Fury said easily. 

Clint waited until they were in the office, watching Sitwell run with tail firmly between his legs, before he glanced sideways at Coulson, "You leaving school early...I think it'd explode." 

Phil allowed a brief twitch of his lips, the closest he'd gotten to an outright smile yet, and crossed behind his desk, "No, that was my first and last sick day. Ruptured appendix two months ago--" 

"That was the day Stark and I blew up half the chem lab, right?" 

Phil almost sounded like he was laughing when he replied, "Yes. Yes, it was." 

"Are you why Stark and I have never gotten another joint class?" 

"Yes, yes I am." 

Clint smirked, "Probably best for all involved, sir." 

Coulson let out a short snort of derision, grabbing up his coat, "Damn straight." 

In the grand lack of bustle in the hallways, Steve Rogers charging through with a look of complete panic. "Steve?" Was out of Clint's mouth before he could stop it.

Steve turned agonized baby blues on both of them, and Clint's stomach swooped, "Have either of you seen Tony Stark?" 

"No, Mr. Rogers--" 

"Go to the drama room, the ladder outside of Benson's office leads to the costumes cave. It will be dark, and Tony will probably be electrocuting himself trying to rewire the light and the socket it's attached to in order to stop it from electrocuting people anymore." Clint rattled off easily. Steve looked honestly shocked at that, and Clint quirked his lips, "I told him about the time I electrocuted Benson with the wiring problem, and that she still hasn't fixed it. He has a list of things he's secretly fixing in this school, this is the next on there. Though, I hope he didn't skip the part about electrocuting her again." Coulson shot him a look, but Steve looked almost painfully relieved, "And be careful of startling him when he's got his portable soldering kit. Kid's small, but lethal." Steve was pretty much already in motion, headed for the drama room, and Clint just fell into step beside Coulson, ignoring his look in favour of strutting out of the doors. 

Steve slipped into the classroom with all the careful stealth of a man who'd been cornered once already by the short, crazy-haired drama teacher with the even crazier eyes. For a big guy, he was surprisingly sneaky, scowling the ninth graders into submission from behind Benson's back, silencing them all. He'd disappeared behind the curtains separating her office from the main room before she'd turned to look at what her class had just paled at. 

Steve climbed the ladder quickly, meeting the sight of Tony's already-insane hair exacerbated by the almost steam-punk goggles he had covering his eyes from the soldering iron.

"Who told you? Was it Barton? Little bastard can't keep a secret." Tony was frowning behind his goggles, his lip pouting out just slightly, and Steve had to grin at him, a full, real grin. 

"Little?" 

"Shut up, Gigantor. We can't all be six-foot walls of muscle and dimples." Now Tony was really pouting, though he was teasing, too. 

"Permission to seek refuge where Benson cannot ask me to be in the school play again." 

"Granted. But for a price." 

Tony grinned cheekily, and Steve leaned in, kissing him fleetingly before pulling away with a grunt to bat the goggles off. Tony chuckled muffledly, knocked off-balance. Steve heard the slightly zzt of electricity and felt Tony flinch, and he had Tony off his feet, across the small room, laid out against a bag full of ancient scraps of fabric, Steve's solid body curled slightly around him, his legs tucked over Steve's and one of Steve's hands cupping the back of his head. Steve pulled up his hand, uncurling his zapped fingers gently and pressing soft kisses to each fingertip, his eyes darker in the diffuse light, curtained by his long, fluttering lashes. Tony's breath caught, and he used that hand to draw Steve's mouth back down to his, reaching up to hook his arms around Steve's broad shoulders. 

"Make-outs in the costume closet. I like this side of you, Steve Rogers." Tony sniggered. 

Steve's lips pulled up just slightly, his dimples peeking out, "I do, too." Steve kissed him, slow and deep, taking his time with it before he had to face the music on what had had him searching for Tony through the lunch period for. Slowly, though, it got harder to be brought up, until Steve had no choice but to, "Pepper told me you said something you didn't want to say again…" He punctuated his words with a kiss, trying to keep Tony here even if it meant...incentive. Tony still locked down, his breath catching, so Steve bent his head down and kissed him deeper. "You have Bruce talking to Rhodey. Why don't you talk to me?" Steve heard the faint click of Tony's throat tightening, and he was well and truly worried. 

It would have been dark enough to hide the tear that slid down Tony's temple if Steve didn't have damnably enhanced senses of some form or another. Steve's thumb, warm and pleasantly work-worn, caught the tear, Steve's own breathing stuttering.

"Tell me…" Steve pleaded on a breath, his arms gathering Tony even further into his embrace, cradling Tony's body and wrapping warmth around him. 

Tony swallowed, ducking his head to get away from those gorgeous eyes and refusing to meet them again, "I-I can't...I can't lose you. I just got you." Steve caught the whisper against his lips, pinning Tony down with his mouth alone.

"Tell me…" Steve let himself press down as Tony yanked for him, his hand tugging gently at Steve's hair for another kiss.

Steve felt the heat rising steadily in the tiny loft of a room, their mouths hot and wet, a sheen of sweat breaking out under the light fabric of Steve's white t-shirt. Steve pressed soft little kisses over Tony's swollen lips, pulling back slightly to look down at him, "My dad...my dad took me with him a few years ago, to one of the demonstrations...he wanted to show me...I don't even know." Tony fought his tight throat, "I think he wanted to show me what I was inheriting, and how damaging it could be...he left me for a little while...with some of the soldiers. It was al-alright...they were nice...but then...s-some terrorist cell a-attacked us...and I watched four of them bleed out in the sand--" Tony cut off, Steve's large fingers stroking tears off of his cheeks. Steve sat back, one arm supporting Tony's back and one hand in Tony's hair, pulling him up against the expanse of Steve's chest and holding him tight. Steve's strong arms wrapped around him tight, his other hand rubbing over Tony's back. Tony had never felt smaller than he did in Steve's arms. Small and fragile and it made him so angry and vulnerable, but he couldn't fight against it, couldn't change it, and wouldn't for the world. 

There were words that didn't have shape or form pushing at Steve's throat, but he couldn't say them, mostly because there was nothing to say. There was no way to take it away, or to make it better. He didn't know how to make it better, and he knew he really couldn't. 

Tony sighed against his neck, holding him back, and Steve felt it in his bones: This is enough. 

~

James Rhodes walked into the lab fully expecting the explosion. 

The giant blond guy and a short, curly-haired girl with an impressive bust and lips that looked like she'd been punched cheered, laughing. Another girl, with willowy limbs, came around the smoke billowing from the beaker laughing with the other two and hugging them both. And the boy behind the beaker, the one that was supposed to be Tony Stark, laughed a warm, husky chuckle that was so not-Tony Rhodey almost did a double take. The boy pulled his glasses off, looking up at Rhodey with impressively soulful brown eyes. "H-Hi...you must be Tony's friend Rhodey…" The man's voice was trailing, husky and deep, but so kind and unassuming that he seemed lost even in this room that he seemed to belong in. "I'm Bruce. Bruce Banner." He stepped forward, offering a hand to Rhodey to shake, ducking his head minutely and glancing away as if scared of looking at him for too long. Rhodey took the offered hand in a solid grip, shaking, and the other boy seemed to shrink a little. Rhodey had been around the block enough to know a man who would barely touch for fear of leaving a bruise with the strength he was hiding. "Um...this is Darcy, Jane, and Thor."

"We were just leaving." Jane assured him, smiling like a toothpaste commercial. "Nice to meet you, though." 

Rhodey was suddenly left alone in the lab with Bruce Banner looking wryly at him from under his lashes, and he felt more than a little at a loss. He hadn't even said a word yet. "I-I am Rhodey, yeah...do you know where Tony is?" 

Bruce's eyebrows rose slightly, his head ducking as he moved to start cleaning up the mess, "He disappeared earlier, from what I gather. My...My brother was looking for him." 

Rhodey squared his shoulders, defensive and protective, "And your brother wouldn't happen to be one of those football players--"

"He's quarterback, actually, but Tony and he are dating, so I don't think the football team will be a danger for much longer. Steve's...a firm hand once he gets past the shock of having the power to change people." 

Rhodey looked almost taken aback, "Tony...Tony didn't tell me he had a boyfriend…" 

"It is kind of a new development, actually. Started last week. They both seem pretty happy, though." Bruce shrugged slightly. 

"I-I'm sorry I interrupted you guys--" 

"Tony wanted us to talk. I think I should be shocked that he informed me instead of just dropping us in each other's paths." Rhodey couldn't help but laugh at that, shaking his head in agreement. 

"What did he want you to talk to me about?" Rhodey already had enough science lectures from Tony himself to have gotten him through his classes…

"That you're joining the army." Bruce said easily, almost flippantly, and Rhodey immediately fell back into the defensive. "I made the mistake of telling him my secret. I don't know what he wants me to do for him with convincing you not to; it's not exactly a mark against the whole of the army…" 

Rhodey's curiosity must've shown pretty clearly on his features. Bruce half-smiled ruefully, gesturing to one of the stools while he took one for himself. 

In quiet, perfectly steady tones, Bruce began to describe his childhood, and the horrors that had happened to him. It was a testament to Rhodey's strength of character that he didn't react in any way, holding back the disgust and the horror and everything else as Bruce's eyes grew distant and vulnerable, in another time entirely as he described what it was like that his father: one of the people he was meant to trust above all others, pushed him down the stairs purposefully. "I think that the worst part of it was that he'd waited just long enough for me to know that it was wrong before he started. If I'd always grown up with it...I don't know, I don't think I would've thought it was normal, but I think I would've...accepted it, in a way. I don't know. But...in kindergarten, I met...I met an angel." Rhodey would have thought Bruce was telling someone else's story; reading it rote off of a script, anything--but his eyes, distant and sad and nostalgic told him otherwise, and Rhodey had seen enough to know that every heart-breaking word was true. "Betty was tiny...God, she was tiny and so fragile. So was Steve, actually. He was probably actually more breakable than she was, he was such a tiny kid." Bruce smiled fondly and shook his head, "Anyway...Steve found out...about my dad. He found out, and he took me home with him. I'm sure he told Grams what was going on, but it wasn't in front of me, he was too polite for that...still is, I think. Steve took me in, or Betty did: they traded off a couple times, because Betty and I were kindergarten romance and Steve and his Grams weren't on the steadiest financial terms. 

"Betty's father was a general. He was...very, very strict. But...I didn't think he was a bad man. Not until…" Bruce swallowed and looked down, tilting his head slightly, "One night, while I was at Betty's house with her, her father called mine...even though he knew what my father had been doing to me." Bruce twined his hands together, "Anyway...the night ended with Betty...with Betty…" Bruce's unshakable cool was gone, and he was angry and on the verge of tears. Rhodey reached out one hand, unknitting his fingers before they could hurt themselves, "she died. And I was in the h-hospital...for too l-long to...to go to her f-funeral." Bruce managed, shaking apart. He hadn't told Tony that last part. He couldn't've. Hadn't told anyone. The only people that knew were Steve and Greta and Betty's stupid father. And now Rhodey, because he'd gotten too lost with Rhodey; Rhodey had let him get through it all. And now Rhodey was on his feet, one arm slung over Bruce's back and the other keeping Bruce's hands secure and safe in his. "He wouldn't let Steve or Grams go, either...told them to leave immediately…" Bruce shook his head as if trying to shake off the memories like a persistent fly. 

Rhodey pulled him into a real hug, giving up on the thought of how awkward it could end up. Bruce laughed shakily, his whole body trembling, but he steadied under Rhodey's hands, turning his head to whisper "thank you" near Rhodey's ear. He sniffed, dashing tears out of his eyes as Rhodey let it end naturally. "I'm sorry, I'm not usually this...emotional." Bruce's voice was easygoing and soft, and Rhodey had to laugh a little at that, shaking his head. 

"I could use a coffee before I go root out my idiot of a best friend. Feel like joining me?" Bruce smiled at him, and Rhodey could already hear the "you don't have to", but he had Bruce's coat in one arm and Bruce in the other before Bruce could voice it. "I'm also trusting you to know where to go for something half-decent. This isn't exactly my town." 

Darcy smiled gratefully as Thor's massive hand wrapped around her arm, steadying her from falling over from her high wire of a curbside. Thor wasn't even looking, his head bowed slightly, blond hair loose and blowing in the wind, his kind blue eyes soft and fond even while they were on the ground as he listened to Jane babble about her theory. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bruce being escorted out by that Rhodey guy, and she had to bite her lip to hold in a squeal of joy, not wanting to distract Thor from fantasizing about her best friend's naked booty. Darcy stopped shortly, looking from Bruce climbing into the guy's car to Jane and Thor walking slowly and meanderingly along, lost in their own worlds. "Lady Darcy, if you want me to keep you on your feet, may I suggest keeping up?" Thor called without looking, and Jane stopped short, looking to the curb her best friend was supposed to be on, then twisting to look back at where she was. Thor waited beside Jane, his smile on Darcy kind, but his eyes full of little hearts for Jane. Darcy bit the inside of her cheek, resolving to lock those two in a closet if that's what it took. Janey needed something to get her head out of her books every once in a while. Because she was an awesome friend, and it didn't matter what Jane said about focussing on school, Jane was going to be swept off her feet if it killed Darce to make it happen.

Rhodey's car swept by, Bruce turned in his seat to look at him, and Darcy grinned at the warmth that filled her chest. "So, Jane: Harrison, I think I should tap that." 

Jane's patented 'I-know-what-you're-talking-about-but-what-the-fuck-are-you-talking-about' eyebrow wrinkle appeared in the middle of her forehead, and Darcy refrained from telling her she'd get old before her time making faces like that. Jane glanced once, sideways, at Thor, and Darcy smiled brightly, telling her silently, but in no uncertain terms, that the wall of muscle with the big hands and the bigger voice would be Jane's plaything if it killed her. Jane didn't look too pleased, but that was okay, Darcy could deal with that. Thor just looked confused, and his resemblance to a puppy dog was just mind boggling with the size of him. Darcy did her best to look innocent when Jane started semi-scowling at her, catching up with them and shifting her bag on her shoulder. 

"You know what? I want bubblegum ice cream. We should get bubble gum ice cream. It's funny when Jane gets a blue nose." Darcy simpered, also innocently. Jane rolled her eyes, almost hissing at her, but Thor was genuinely engaged by this, wanting to see Jane's blue nose. 

Darcy walked along with them towards the ice cream parlour not far from campus until she deemed it safe to make up a flimsy excuse and go back, conveniently leaving Jane and her soon-to-be-boytoy headed for cold sweet treats and alone time. If it weren't for the fact that Darcy did, now, actually want ice cream, she'd demand more people recognize her genius. As it was, she fully intended on telling Clint she got Jane laid. 

~

Clint could feel her stare at him as she walked into the library. 

"Hello, Tash." He murmured, and he could hear her body shift at the nickname. 

"Why do you call me that?" Natasha's voice was never not dangerous and steady, and Clint kind of loved that, because it always went deeper when it was him, like he was the only one stupid enough to cross lines with her. 

In all honesty, he was. "Because if I call you "sweetheart" too soon, you'll cut my balls of while I sleep." 

Natasha's mouth flinched, and Clint would've started a one-man parade with how close to a smile that was, "Call me sweetheart ever and I'll cut your balls off in your sleep, Clint." 

Clint smirked, still lounging over her favourite reading chair, flicking through a magazine with a laze that spoke of him falling asleep where he sat. 

"Why are you home so soon?" 

"Why? Don't you miss me when I'm gone?" 

"I think I miss killing people more than I would ever miss you." Natasha growled, her eyes narrowing. Clint finally put down the magazine and looked at her, pouting. "You asked." 

"And you're a spy, so I'm going to assume you're bullshitting me right now. So there. You love me. Secretively." 

Natasha rolled her eyes, and deemed that it wasn't even worth it to hit him until he gave her her seat back. 

It had nothing to do with the way she'd catch her ha--...Coulson. Coulson--with the way she'd catch Coulson looking at Clint sometimes, like he was melting the ice that Coulson hadn't lost when he'd taken her in, just loosened enough for her to slip through. 

It scared her a little. Coulson was steady and strong and invulnerable so long as he stayed far away from all things emotional. That's why he'd gotten her to meet his last girlfriend--some cellist from Portland who was getting dangerously close to being a threat to the cool detachment Coulson had carefully cultivated inside himself to handle the things he'd seen as a sniper and a soldier. That Clint wasn't running at the thought of her, though...Natasha was forced to wonder if Coulson hadn't brought about his own undoing by letting the boy come close. 

This one wasn't about to bolt. 

Natasha fell into one of the armchairs, her long legs flung up against the wing opposite to the arm her back was leaning against, curling her into a sharp V. 

Clint didn't so much as glance at her, and she knew it was because he was daydreaming about Coulson. He had the look for it, and the heart rate if she wasn't mistaken. 

"Do you ever go out, Tash?" 

"No." 

"Would Coulson let you?" 

"Yes." 

"You're coming out then. With me. Now. I feel like it's high time your lily-white, Russian ass has seen the sun." Clint threw aside the magazine, standing up and cricking his back shortly, groaning contentedly and grabbing her up with him. 

Natasha repressed the urge to completely kill Clint, her mouth setting in defiance. 

"Coulson would actually encourage it, wouldn't he? Huh, maybe I should go ta--" 

"Fine, I'll come with you. Don't bother him, he needn't know…" 

Clint tilted his head just a fraction, reading her like an open book, and Natasha recoiled, never having had that before, "He thinks you have been going out, doesn't he? He'd--" 

"He'd focus on me rather than you if he knew that I haven't been, yes." Natasha snapped. It gave her the open opportunity, Clint released her without her having to physically incapacitate him, but his hand caught her wrist, his eyes dark and glinting and the unrelenting gaze of a bird of prey, "He makes one mistake: one misstep, and we're both out in the cold! You think I don't see the way you look at him?!" 

Clint's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing, "Natasha, if you think for one goddamn minute that I would ever jeopardize Coulson after everything he's done for me, you are fucking wrong." 

Natasha recoiled a little, the hard glint in her eye going deeper, less violent and more calculating, then they turned to blank understanding, "You do love him…" she murmured, nodding to herself, "Good." Natasha stepped around him, "Just keep it in your pants until you turn eighteen." Natasha slipped past him easily, snagging a leather jacket on her way, black as the rest of her clothing and just as tight. "Coming?" 

Clint and Natasha slid into a booth at the diner a few minutes later, the cliché of it all tugging at even Tasha's lips. 

"I half-expect Frenchy to pull out her Easter-egg hair and Danny Zuko to start a brawl over who gets to take Sandy's virginity." Natasha growled lowly, huddling down around her menu. "If one of those dumb jocks asks to pin me, I will not be held responsible for my actions." 

Clint's eyes slid, following the path of Natasha's gaze to a circle of future frat boys, apparently watching one of the less popular underclassmen drink down half a bottle of Tabasco. Clint fought his smile, leaning over to hide behind his own menu so as not to draw attention to them. "Don't worry, you're too hot and too intimidating for them. They like girls who aren't fierce and deadly with it." 

Natasha's lips twitched briefly, and Clint took it as a personal victory. 

Excusing herself briefly, Clint leaned back in the booth, sprawling over it in the way that only teenaged boys seemed capable of. 

\--And then, suddenly, Clint wasn't alone. 

Loki Laufeyson was known for being a freak and the son of a gang leader and crime boss. And, suddenly, his emerald-green eyes were shining over the table at Clint, and Clint was reminded of the spider in Lord of the Rings, and how hungry it'd looked. It was not a fun comparison, when that look was directed at him. 

"Hello, Clint Barton." Loki's voice was cool and steady, but honey-smooth. 

"Am I supposed to be creeped out and intimidated here; because did you see the girl I came in here with?"

Clint's grey-blue eyes were completely focussed on Loki for all that the little rich boy could tell, but he took in everything. Methods of escape, methods of defence. He was pretty sure that Natasha would be armed with something: she was scary, after all; but when it came down to it, he really didn't want to see those idiot jocks get shot any more than he wanted to have been cornered by Loki. 

Loki allowed a small quirk of his lips, skin too pale and the bags under his eyes only emphasized by the black of his hair. Tony Stark on no coffee looked more appealing than this. Hell, a cage-match between caffeine-deprived Tony Stark and Bruce Banner would look more appealing than this. 

"I'm here to offer my...services." 

"Ew, no. I don't need solicitation on my record, and certainly not with you." Clint knew he was offending Loki Laufeyson, but Natasha had come back out of the washroom and seen them, and had nodded subtly at him that she had his back if Laufeyson tried anything. 

"Your foster father...he could be made to have an accident." 

Clint was completely focussed on Loki now, "Really, and how much does a human life cost at this point?" 

Loki smiled, sickly and disturbing, "I like you, Barton--" 

"No means no." Natasha purred from behind Loki's shoulder, startling the little prick, "Why do boys not grasp this concept?" Natasha turned the question to Clint, who smirked, shrugging. 

Loki shot one last look at Clint, slithering away. Natasha plopped herself down like she owned the joint, smirking, and Clint knew they were being watched still. 

"Need a rape shower?" 

Clint nodded pitifully, pulling his Coke towards him and hunkering down as if he wanted to disappear. "Well, we know he's fuck-nut crazy, just like his daddy." 

Natasha got quiet, studying her right hand against the tabletop. "He was my final mission, you know. The one that Coulson saved me from…"

Clint was curious, and that must have shown. Natasha's eyes flicked over the people gathered, no one close enough to hear them, and noise levels high enough otherwise that they wouldn't easily be overheard. 

"Phil Coulson is ex-military. Sniper division…he took out the facility that I was...trained in. But that was years ago. I'd thought that I would be able to be a free agent...and, for a long time, I was right. But Coulson had kept files on all the girls...he'd kept my file, and when he saw me--I suppose instinct took over. Next thing I knew, I was being...detained. Phil is quite possibly the only person in the world that could ever get the drop on me, or had a chance in a fight. The army wanted me, as did the CIA and a whole host of other agencies. Either for persecution or for...recruitment. Phil called in some favours I don't even want to know the inciting incident of, and he claimed guardianship." Natasha sipped at her iced tea, eyes sliding around the room in a steady, practiced way that spoke of casing the place. "It's tenuous, and they're looking for a reason to seize me from his care, but, until I turn eighteen, at least, I'm safe." 

"And when you turn eighteen?" 

Natasha's lips pulled up into a small half-smile that looked like she would still kill him in six different ways before he could so much as blink, but she also found him amusing. "Then I disappear, and Coulson's the only one who can find me." 

Clint nodded slowly, "That actually doesn't sound half bad." Clint draped himself over the booth again as his dinner was set in front of him. He threw a grateful smile towards the elderly waitress, her tongue clucking in response to his cheeky charm. 

"I think Coulson'd follow you if you left." Natasha told him pointedly, and a spark of actual affection flared deep in her eyes, "But that wouldn't be bad, either." Natasha stole a fry from his plate, smirking, "I've seen you at the archery range." Clint shot her a look of confusion and she shrugged fluidly, "Gun range. You're a great shot, though." 

Clint had dimples when he smiled, "Yeah, but no secret agent walks around with a bow and quiver--" 

"No, but you could. Aim like yours is an asset. Coulson can't even do what you do, and he's one of the top four snipers in the world.”

Clint looked at his hands against the table, studying his fingers carefully, "I don't know if Coulson--" 

"Phil wouldn't care, so long as you were happy. That's the wonderful thing about him, Clint." Natasha gave a small, fond half-smile. 

Clint turned his head in time to see Tony, Bruce, Steve, and Rhodey push into the diner, laughing and talking as if the four of them had been friends since the beginning. Steve glanced sideways at the football players, one eyebrow raising in challenge as he and Tony walked together in the opposite direction. Clint smiled to himself, rolling his eyes at the transparency. "You are an idiot, you know that, Rogers?" Tony snorted, grinning wolfily despite himself. 

"He'll learn fast even if he doesn't," Clint told him sardonically, Natasha smiling winningly and sliding over to make room in her half of the booth for two of the boys. Clint hurried to follow suit, flashing a devilish little smile at Tony as he climbed in next to Natasha, Steve following him. "How you been, Banner?" 

Bruce shrugged, a secret shining behind his eyes along with a happy spark Clint hadn't seen there ever, "I'm...really, really good." Rhodey tried and failed to swallow his smile, and Clint glanced up at Tony, honestly impressed with his evil genius. 

Tony shrugged, grinning, "I've never been in here, what's good?" Tony asked flippantly, ignoring the menu. Steve shot him a confused look, and Clint knew that Tony was the only student at the high school that didn't come in here: mostly because he was the only student at the high school that had the potential to be slaughtered in the areas where football-player populations were the highest. 

Clint caught Steve's eye, shifting his gaze pointedly to the area of the diner with possibly the lowest IQ gathering in the history of the world. Steve tensed a little, his hand disappearing under the table. Clint knew when Tony's eyes shifted to Steve's face that Steve had taken his hand under the table, "Personally, I like their chilli fries." Steve told him, turning his back to the rest of the restaurant so that he was looking only at the occupants of their table. 

"Mexican salad." Bruce piped in. Rhodey laughed warmly, just as new to this as Tony was. 

"Personally, I'm skipping to dessert and getting the waffles." Natasha told them smoothly, and Tony nodded, intrigued. 

"Ice cream?"

"Pralines and cream." 

"Sauce?" 

"Caramel, of course." 

"Sprinkles?" 

"Well, I saved Clint's ass from being molested, so I think I've earned it." Natasha smiled, cheeky and charming, and Clint was in awe. 

"Hm. I electrocuted myself today, so I think I've earned it, too." 

"Besides, you've gotta try to fill out for bikini season." Natasha smirked, and Tony laughed, shaking his head. He looked like the devil, mischievous and ready for chaos. 

"I leave the sex-appeal of the relationship to Steve." Steve turned a shade of red that wasn't commonly seen outside of overripe cherries. Clint, unfortunately, had been taking a sip of his soda. Which proceeded to be snorted out of his nose. 

Bruce and Rhodey cracked into silent laughter, inching subtly closer to each other. 

"So is it a secret or not?" Clint asked, wiping himself up. 

Tony frowned a little, looking down at his hands, "We're not telling outright, but we're not hiding it, either." Tony shrugged, not looking at anyone. 

Natasha looked between them, her eyebrows raising, "Football player starts dating the gay guy the football team uses as a punching bag?" 

Tony nodded, slowly looking up at her, "And here I thought Steve's life couldn't get more cliché than when he became quarterback." 

Bruce snorted, "You totally should have known better." 

Clint grinned, "I now officially doubt your genius." 

Tony groaned, throwing his head down on his folded arms, "Why did the cosmos think it was a good idea to put you two in the same room together?" 

"'Cause we haven't blown anything up in the last two months." Clint shrugged, taking another pull from his soda. 

"Actually, Bruce blew something up this afternoon. Great timing. If it hadn't been for the poof of smoke, I would've just kept walking, but explosives immediately makes me think Tony has something to do with it." Rhodey teased, and Tony scowled at him. 

Steve glanced over at Tony, "Please, don't blow yourself up." 

"Yes, I second this sentiment!" Clint announced expansively. 

Bruce waved his hand, "Third." 

Rhodey made a series of indistinct noises that were meant to be words around his mouthful of milkshake, and Tony nodded his complete understanding that he was not to blow himself up under threat of being resurrected and shot. 

"You know who we're missing here?" Tony said suddenly, looking highly perturbed. "Pepper!" 

Rhodey nodded solemnly. "I agree, but our custody arrangement dictates that we each have time separate from each other with you before we combine." 

"How do Clint and I get in on this arrangement?" Bruce asked, tilting his head to one side. 

"You are volunteering me for regular Stark duty? This is more responsibility than I think I'm capable of." Clint snorted. 

"You are the one that attempted to implement a hug-Tony rule." 

"In my defense, at the time this rule was proposed, we all thought he was going to go the evil-mad-scientist route and make a death ray that would wipe out all the jocks!" Clint shot back. 

Steve glanced down at Tony, seeing the way he was drawn into himself, not looking at anyone and not meeting even his eyes. "He's mine, you may all go to Hell." Steve interrupted, tilting his head to the side as he raised his gaze back to the others, eyebrows raising in challenge. Natasha's lips twitched, her look sly as she nodded just a little at him. Tony looked up at him, something unreadable in his dark eyes. 

Steve squeezed Tony's hand gently under the table, glancing at him through his eyelashes. Tony's shoulder slipped behind his, Tony's body bleeding warmth into his side, a solid weight against him. 

"See, that's twice now you've used a swear word pertaining to Tony."

"I have not been around long enough to be a bad influence!"

Steve grinned at his brother, and turned his head to kiss Tony's temple so quickly they wouldn't be caught by anyone who wasn't looking directly at them. Rhodey looked Steve over appraisingly, the corners of his lips curved down just slightly, "I hear you're setting our boy up with...protection." 

Steve's frown almost matched Rhodey's and Tony started frowning at the similarities between his best friend and his boyfriend. "Happy's a friend of mine. Has been since before I was quarterback. He'll keep an eye out when I can't." 

"So you and Happy Hogan are trying to make sure I end the year without another broken rib?" Tony clarified, looking back and forth between Steve's set jaw and Rhodey's dark and honestly kind of scary eyes. "Awesome." 

Natasha wrinkled her brow, "Clint--" 

"I don't spend enough time out of the principal's office. Or I didn't." 

"I'll join you." Natasha told him smoothly. Tony looked wide-eyed between her and Steve and Rhodey looked impressed. "We need to protect our friends."

"And no more keeping your friends a secret, Tony." Bruce piped up, "Pepper and I want to be your friends: we are your friends, and no amount of keeping us secret is going to lessen any damage any more than being public will make damage worse."

"I second this motion." Clint volunteered, "You are a pain in the ass, but I'd rather be friends with you than with anyone on that damn football team--no offence, Steve." 

Steve shrugged, silently glowing he was so pleased. "I'd rather be with Tony than be friends with them, either." 

"But you're staying away to--" 

Clint turned to Natasha, ready to explain, "Quarterback gets you so much pull. Then you're at the mercy of how everyone else sees you. Steve should be more careful--" 

"No, actually, I want to be out with this. I'm not ashamed."

Tony reached up and pressed three fingers to Steve's lips, looking into his eyes, "Let's try to avoid you getting your ribs broken, too, hm?" 

Steve took his hand, leading it away from his lips and pressing it between his warm palm and his chest, threading their fingers together. 

"You two are so cute I'm going to barf." Clint told them, completely cheery about it. 

"You're just jealous." Bruce told him snippily. 

"And you are canary-eating smug." Rhodey laughed, shaking his head as he brought his root beer bottle up to his lips. 

Bruce shrugged, "Someone had to the be the brains of the operation. Steve was dithering, and he doesn't exactly do his best work when he's dithering." 

Tony smiled, sliding closer to Steve, "I've never seen you dither." Tony murmured fondly. 

"Be thankful. Those puppy-dog eyes that have caused ovaries everywhere to implode only get worse when he dithers." Bruce snickered. Tony's eyebrows were in danger of disappearing into his hairline, "Yeah, I didn't think it was possible, either." 

"Puppy-dog eyes?" Steve looked honestly confused, and Bruce and Tony both ended up laughing, almost hysterically. 

"He doesn't even know how dangerous he is." Natasha snickered. 

"Sleeper agent." Clint agreed. 

"He could probably rule the world quite easily." Tony quipped. 

"Again, you may all go to Hell." Steve smirked, stealing a bit of ice cream from Tony's waffle. 

"You've totally corrupted my incorruptible brother, and I think I like it." Bruce grinned at Tony, nodding in appreciation. Tony laughed, shaking his head. 

"I swear, I'm innocent here! I have done nothing!" Tony splayed his hands out in front of him. "Well, not yet, anyway." Tony grinned like he was the Devil incarnate, which he really was. 

Bruce snorted, "Five seconds after meeting me you were using behavioural reinforcement by bribing me with blueberries to be on your side." 

"You got blueberries?! I didn't get no stinkin' blueberries!" Clint put on a pout like a spoiled six-year-old, crossing his arms over his chest and scowling at Tony. 

"That's because checking out Pepper's ass is not behaviour I want to reinforce. You're nice, but she's looking for a different breed of nice." Tony told him flatly. 

"It wasn't her ass I was checking out." Clint waggled his eyebrows cheekily, smirking, "Sorry, Steve." 

"No, valid point, I do have a very nice backside." Tony chirped, grinning. Steve frowned just slightly and drew closer to him. Tony's mind could almost be heard whirring at the thought that Steve would be just a little possessive with him. Clint and Bruce shared a pained look, and Rhodey gagged subtly at Natasha, who snorted, her lips twitching. "Steve, in a year of going to this hellhole, you are the only person ever that has shown any interest in me like that. I think you don't have anything to worry about." 

"Oh, but a taken man is such a hot ticket item!" Natasha purred, her full lips drawn so gently up that Clint found himself drooling, and he was "single-minded to the point of recklessness" (shrinks were never not fun to fuck with) and completely focussed on Phil.

"You just said that so he'd make with the puppy-dog eyes!" Tony accused, keeping his head carefully turned to avoid seeing said eyes. "Are you trying to kill me, because I have ninjas and shit that carry large firearms that are supposed to protect me but may actually help you…" Steve's big hand cupped Tony's chin, turning his head around to face him. 

"Breathe." Steve ordered simply, and Tony blew a raspberry. 

"I do breathe. It's circular breathing, actually, which I will demonstrate the many uses of at some point in our future together." Tony winked, waggled his eyebrows and bit his lower lip in a way that was supposed to be sexy. Rhodey was trying not to fall out of the booth laughing. 

Steve's face fell into shock before he recovered himself, laughing fondly and shaking his head. "Bruce, you're chaperoning this weekend."

"What? Why? No. I'm not watching you two make moon-eyes at each other again this weekend." Bruce told them firmly, frowning and stern. 

"Uh-huh." Tony shrugged easily, leaning forwards to lean his forearms on the table, "Besides, I'll have to take Rhodey around to see the sights…" Tony purred, and Bruce's eyes narrowed for the barest of moments. 

"Fine. But this is not a double-date, and, Steve, you will be keeping your shirt on at all times. I don't ever want to have to pry him off you again. You're my brother and I love you, but he bites." 

Steve blushed, looking down at his hands. Tony smiled an unholy smile, "Hate to break it to you, but it wasn't me that growled at you, Brucey." 

Steve blushed harder, and Bruce and Clint burst into laughter. "That is the best thing I have ever fucking heard!" Clint guffawed. 

Grinning, Tony squeezed Steve's hand under the table, leaning into his side, happy and relaxed and completely at ease. "Mr. Stark!" 

Suddenly, he wasn't so at ease anymore. Tony paled as he turned to look at his latest one in a string of keepers. "What on earth do you think you're doing--" 

"Mr. Stark, your father requires your presence." Steve was beginning to get up beside him, and Tony knew at once what this was.

"No, my father requires my presence not to be with the people who care for me. More specifically, my boyfriend." Tony hissed, taking Steve's hand even more solidly, holding him in place. "I'm not going. You can't make me."

Rhodey slid forward, unfolding himself from the booth and standing taller than Tony's bodyguard, "You heard him." Rhodey told him. "Howard doesn't get to tell Tony who to love or who loves him. We've already had this conversation, he and I." 

"Ah, the future General Rhodes." Howard said silkily, slipping in behind the bodyguard. "Why so shocked, James?" 

"Because I didn't think you could live outside of that workshop in your basement, and the image of you coming to pick up Tony yourself could be in a cartoon it's so ridiculous." 

Howards face changed, the mask of friendliness and good will sliding away to reveal the intent behind it, "You are a fool." 

Rhodey snorted, leaning back against the table, letting the others' faces register to Howard, "I'm here for Tony, I always have been and I always will be. Now which of the two of us, exactly, is the fool?" Steve slid their joined hands over the table, anger in his eyes, a set to his jaw that Tony felt almost breathless at seeing. Howard didn't miss it, his cheeks darkening with rage. 

"I can ruin every last one--" 

"No, you can't." Tony replied simply, voice level and easy, "You can't do a damn thing to anyone here. I know your tricks; I always have. I keep your investigators on retainer so that they come to me first; I'm friends with the children of the men you've made hate you; I know every last one of the bodyguards you've sacked over the years. They like me. Mostly because I'm not you. And I've already started the witch hunt you're about to. The skeletons you think you'll find in their closets have all been properly buried and put to rest, Howard. Rhodey, Steve, Bruce, Clint, Pepper, Phil Coulson, and Natasha are all under my protection already." 

"I can cut you off." Howard growled. 

"With all due respect, sir, you can't." Rhodey smirked. 

"I've been preparing for that since I was five and the concept of running away first popped into my head. Go home. You don't belong here." Tony told him coldly. 

"You have no where to go--" 

"He has me." Steve told him steadily, absorbing the strength and anger Tony was radiating, "He has a home he can go to, with people who love him." Howard looked like he was about to blow up, whirling and storming from the diner. Steve settled back into Tony's side, pressing a little, keeping him there. 

"When did Coulson and I get added to your list?" Natasha asked quietly, suspicion written in her every line. 

"When Coulson took over guardianship of Clint. I protect my friends, and I protect their family." 

"Greta's job--" Bruce began. 

"She can't be touched. Besides, I've accumulated over fifty million over the last twelve years, so even if they find a way around it, you'll be taken care of. I made sure she'd be indispensable the moment I knew she was related to Steve. It's a cheap shot, but if they fire her, the bottom will fall out on all of my fathers assets." 

"And the bodyguards?" Steve asked quietly. 

"Ex-military. Three snipers, a couple pilots, some demolitions experts. They're on my payroll. If there's a whisper of anything to do with my list of people to protect, they hunt it down and put a stop to whatever's going on." Tony shrugged, voice numb and hollow. Steve turned his head, kissing his lips for a long moment, until Tony kissed back. 

"Ding-dong the wicked witch is dead…" Clint sang softly, looking impressed, "Why the fuck am I on your list, by the way?" 

"Chem buddies are the best buddies." Tony said easily, grinning. Steve snorted, shaking his head as he laughed. "Any other questions?" 

"We're all safe?" 

"As houses." Rhodey told them certainly. 

"I can believe you had to think of something like this." Steve whispered, his voice tight. He reached over, wrapping Tony in a hug. Natasha reached over with long fingers, rubbing Tony's hair. 

"I-I think I'm in shock just a little bit." Tony admitted into Steve's throat. 

"I can't believe he was stupid enough to think he could disown you." Rhodey told him, "He's known you were smarter than him since you were five." 

Tony shrugged from the middle of Steve's embrace, "I think he thought I wouldn't want to do this; because it'd admit how much he hates me." Steve didn't fully let him go, and Natasha shifted slightly closer, her arm against Tony's. Steve looked angry and hurt on Tony's behalf. "It's okay." Tony breathed, leaning against him, a hand on his thigh and his face turned towards Steve's shoulder. 

"No, it's not."

~

Clint stood between Natasha and Bruce, head bowed with the other two. 

Natasha looked grim as a storm cloud, watching Tony, so stony-faced that he didn't seem to be there. 

Slowly, they closed around Steve, protective and solid. "He'll be alright…" 

"I know he will." Steve told them, voice high and reedy. "But the last conversation he had with his father was an argument over me. And now his parents are both gone." 

Natasha slipped her hand into his, leaning into one side as Bruce leaned into the other, propping him up between the two of them. "He's over there because he'd crumble if he gave himself the chance to be with you right now. He can't afford to crumble right now: it's a piranha tank full of people who want to sink their claws into Anthony Edward Stark while he's weak. The only thing he can do is not let them know that he's vulnerable at all." Natasha told him, voice level and assessing. "He's doing very well right now." 

"He'll be a mess later, the poor thing." Greta murmured, a few steps closer to Tony. She wanted to go up and hug him, and they all knew it. There were tears streaking her cheeks, but Steve knew it was more for Tony than it ever would be for either Stark. "Steve, Bruce and I will go out tonight. Bring Rhodey along, too, Bruce. It'll give him...It'll give him some privacy, and I think he'll need you there with him." Steve nodded silently, not taking his eyes off of Tony as he shook hands and let the large, hulking man with a balding head lead him around, the booming voice of the man carrying.

Tony finally broke away, nodding to any remaining people silently as he walked towards the small assembly waiting for him, Pepper and Rhodey breaking off from their own groups to walk along with him, propping him up the same way Natasha and Bruce were propping up Steve. As one, they all moved closer together until Tony was wrapped up in Greta's arms and they'd folded in around them, a barrier from unfriendly eyes. 

Tony shook, holding onto her almost desperately. Gentle fingers rubbed over the back of his head, down to his neck, and Tony let out a small sob, relaxing under Steve's touch even as Greta hugged him tighter. 

"Let's go home now." Greta said gently, letting Steve take Tony, their hands intertwining tightly just out of sight of prying eyes. 

"Pep, Obie…" 

"I've got it, Tony." Pepper replied softly, "You go." Steve's hand fell, warm and strong, to Tony's back, leading him silently forward through the throngs of people. 

Clint and Natasha took up the rear, Rhodey affording the group a widened birth and the two of them ensuring that no one at all would try to stop them. "There's talk of this not being an accident." Natasha growled lowly, so that only Clint could hear. 

"Not Tony's band of bodyguards--" 

"No." Natasha's mouth tightened, grim. "Howard Stark's business partner--" 

"Obediah!" Pepper called, sympathy lining her voice. She broke from the rest of the group, and they fell in closer together to cover the hole, Natasha shooting a look at Clint, that said all she needed him to know. Clint adopted the same grim look, nodding once. It was time to protect Tony, too.

Steve pulled Tony into his arms as they slid into the back of Greta's truck, until Tony was half on his lap, curled close. "I shouldn't be like this…" Tony whispered, "I'm sorry." 

Bruce shared a look with Natasha, letting her step closer to the door, her long, clever hand taking Tony's, her eyes steady and boring into Tony's, "Tony, grieve. And never apologize for it." 

Bruce slid into the back with Tony and Steve, Rhodey sliding into the front with Greta. 

"Promise not to hold it against me if I never go back to that damn house?" 

Rhodey offered a smirk over his shoulder, snorting, "Tony, you've been trying to escape that house since I've known you. Burn it to the ground and I'll understand entirely." 

Steve ran his fingers through Tony's hair, encouraging it back to its unruly curl. Tony hummed, closing his eyes and leaning his head against Steve's chest. 

"Grams, I wanna make Tony chicken soup tonight…"

"You should have what you'll need, Steven." Greta answered steadily, and Tony looked up at Steve, a pinch between his brows. 

"You don't have to…" Tony murmured, his brows drawing together. 

"Yes, I do." Steve bent down to press his lips to Tony's softly, holding him tight, "Let me take care of you tonight." 

Steve began to rub at Tony's neck, smiling gently as Tony nodded into his chest, "Bruce, Rhodey and I are going out tonight, boys." Greta told them sweetly. 

"Just you and me--" Steve cut himself off as Tony hugged him even tighter around the waist and buried his face in Steve's chest. Steve threaded his fingers in Tony's hair, squeezing softly, just a light little tug, letting Tony rub and nuzzle into him. "Hey, I love you, Tony." Steve whispered, and Tony stopped breathing for a moment, "Shh, it's--" 

"I love you, too." Tony breathed, so barely audible that Steve barely heard him. Steve took his long fingers between his, kissing his fingertips.

Bruce and Greta exchanged a look in the rear-view mirror, both fighting smiles. As they pulled up into the drive, Steve didn't really release Tony, taking him into Tony's room, the guest room that they'd shared their first kiss in. 

Steve's nimble fingers snatched up the coat from Tony's shoulders, draping it over the back of a chair, loosening Tony's tie before he strangled himself trying to get it off. "Get changed." Steve leaned down, kissing Tony's lips, long and deep. He could see one of his old sweatshirts sticking out of Tony's drawer, and he knew already that Tony had appropriated one of his pairs of sweat pants. "I'm going to change, too, I'll be back in a second." Steve pressed them closer, nuzzling down against Tony's throat. Tony nodded, letting Steve leave. 

When he came back, Steve was right: Tony had changed into Steve's sweats. He was sitting on the bed, his head bowed and his breath pained. Steve came in silently, sitting down beside him and pulling him into his arms, pulling them both down to the bed, curling around Tony's back, their fingers intertwined. Tony flinched, sliding slightly back against Steve's body, closing his eyes and letting the hurt overtake him. 

Steve stayed silent at his back, cradling him tight and bleeding warmth into him. Steve's large hand rubbed against his chest, as if he could soothe the ache there. Pressing gentle kisses to Tony's ear and neck, Steve didn't make a single move to quiet him as he cried, holding him tighter the harder he sobbed. When the tears ebbed, Steve began rubbing through his hair, massaging his neck until Tony fell asleep in his arms. 

Steve laid there for a long time, holding onto Tony as he slept. 

Slipping out, Steve covered Tony with the quilt, brushing back his hair fondly. Greta, Rhodey and Bruce were in the front hall, pulling on coats and shoes quietly. "Is he…?"

"He's asleep." Steve told them, voice barely making it to a whisper. Greta reached out, folding him into a hug. 

"You are the best boy in the world, Steven Grant Rogers. You take care of him tonight." Steve nodded, "Your parents would be proud." 

"Thank you." Steve murmured, hugging her tighter for a moment. 

They left, and Steve let the silence of the house fall over him as he went into the kitchen, deftly getting everything ready that he needed for the soup. 

He was slicing up the vegetables when Tony emerged from the bedroom. Steve drew him into his arms, kissing his sleep-swollen lips. Tony hummed, rubbing his face into Steve's chest sleepily while he clutched the back of Steve's shirt in his fists, "Let's get you something to drink for now. You have a headache?" Tony nodded, not moving a muscle. "You're probably dehydrated." Steve rubbed his hand through Tony's hair, kissing the black curls. 

"I do love you." Tony told his sternum, voice muffled and indistinct, but still understandable. "I don't want to lose you." 

Steve rubbed his back, "You won't." 

Tony sat down quietly, taking Steve's hand as he sat down with a glass of juice for Tony. "I don't know why it hurts so bad that I lost them...they never loved me." 

Steve stroked Tony's hair away, "Then they were idiots." Steve told him, voice tight as he stroked his thumb over the soft skin of Tony's lower lip. 

Tony reached forwards, kissing him thoroughly. Steve manoeuvered them until Tony was sitting on Steve's lap, his arms locked around Steve's shoulders and Steve's tongue dancing with his. 

Slowly, with a million feather-light kisses between them, Steve broke away, panting lightly. "I should finish making the soup." Steve murmured softly, "And Pepper brought brownies earlier, right?" Tony nodded, kissing over Steve's jaw to his neck. The oven timer went off, and Steve gently pried Tony away from his neck, getting up to go check on the bread. 

"You made bread…" Tony groaned, a sound that Steve knew from a wholly other situation. "You baked bread." 

Steve shrugged. "I had a lot of time on my hands before the growth spurt. I learned how to cook." 

"Can I just...keep you?" 

Steve flashed him a grin, bending to get the bread from the oven, "Yes." He answered lightly, grinning. Steve flipped the loaf onto a cooling rack smoothly, "Absolutely, you can keep me." Tony stepped up, pulling Steve into a kiss, warm and wet and sweet. 

"Tonight...will you...will you sleep with me?" Tony asked meekly, not meeting his eyes, "Just sleep. Please?"

Steve scooped Tony in around the waist, kissing him deeply, "My bed's bigger." Steve brushed his fingers through Tony's hair, "But, for now, just sleep. I won't take advantage of you." 

Tony snorted, "Even if I ask you nicely to take advantage of me?" 

Steve laughed, "Even if." 

Tony had a misleadingly innocent look in his eyes, "Could I convince you to sleep naked?" 

"Sweats."

"Undies!" 

"...Deal." Steve smirked, nipping Tony's lip as he kissed him. "But you're staying in sweats and your sweater…my sweater, but, yeah…"

Tony pouted, and Steve took the bait and kissed it from him. 

Sitting down, Tony let Steve putter for a moment, basking in the glow of how perfect all this felt. "I don't feel like anything is real." Tony admitted finally, hiding his face. 

Steve finished scooping vegetables into Greta's cauldron-sized soup pot, scooping Tony back into his arms and onto his lap, "Do you feel real now?" Steve asked, dipping his head to kiss Tony, hard and hot. Tony shook against him, his hands ruffling through Steve's hair, gripping with surprising strength, shifting until he was almost straddling Steve's lap. 

Tony gasped desperately, trying to pull air into his lungs as his head spun. Leaning their foreheads together, Steve panted right along with him, his large, strong hands splayed possessively over Tony's body, Tony's hands clutching Steve's shoulders. Tony nodded dazedly, "K-Keep...keep making it real…" Tony pleaded, his face flushed and eyes at half-mast. Steve nipped the tender curve of Tony's neck, drawing him in tighter to his chest and tipping his head back gently, tongue, lips, and teeth carefully gentle as they moved over the young, smooth skin. Tony gasped, dazed, fighting to pull Steve's mouth back to his and kissing those gorgeous lips furiously, working them into a hot flush of a pout. A high, pleased sound slipped from Tony's throat as Steve picked him up, levering him onto the table as Steve tried to stand up on shaking legs and keep the kiss going. Tony sucked on Steve's sinful lower lip, keeping it between his teeth for a moment before Steve groaned, coaxing it back from him with his tongue. 

Steve's hand wrapped around Tony's thigh, lifting him back off the table and against his chest, changing the angle and deepening the kiss, "Why do you have to be so good at this?" Steve gasped, panting. He sounded plaintive, his forehead furrowing. 

Tony reared up slightly, going for another kiss, but Steve's hand splayed against his chest, restraining, "C'mon, more practice makes it even better." Tony sing-songed, smirking playfully. Steve felt white-hot lust drip low, pooling into a perfect storm inside of him, and he had to shake his head--if only to clear it. 

"I'm not taking your virginity like this." Tony pouted, his eyebrows drawing together in a kind of hurt Steve really didn't like seeing, "I want to...goddammit, Tony, I want to so badly that I'm going to cave if you push me any further--but I want you to be safe and happy and to know that I love you, too. I don't want to take advantage while you're vulnerable. It's no way to start that part of a relationship." Steve's jaw set into the diamond-hard determination that could probably end wars. 

Tony groaned, his forehead dropping down against the side of Steve's neck, "Why do I have to be dating a fucking angel? Like, seriously, the sheer physical perfection makes me run into walls; why do you have to be perfect with everything else, too?" Tony's muffled whine got a grin out of Steve as he reached to rub Tony's back gently. "Not funny. Not fair. You're going to realize I'm as fucked up as they come, and then you're going to leave me and I'm going to cry. For days. MMmngph!" Tony gripped Steve's shoulders for a moment under the sudden assault of his mouth, tongues sliding slickly between them. Tony was tipped back just slightly, his legs folding around Steve's hips. 

"I'm not going to leave you." Steve growled at him, and Tony was really struggling to breathe now. "Here's the plan: I'm going to finish making dinner, we're going to watch a movie while we eat, and then I'm going to make out with you furiously until we have to make a mad dash to get to my room before Rhodey walks in and catches us, 'cause I am more scared of him than I ever will be of Bruce or Grams." Tony smiled breathlessly, his breath catching on laughter. 

"You are a very smart man, Steve Rogers. I'd be scared of him, too." 

Steve grinned back, scooping his arm under Tony's knees, lifting him bridal style and carrying him from the kitchen, protesting shrilly. 

Finally, Tony tucked his face into Steve's shoulder, going quiet in favour of clinging onto Steve. "I am a grown man--" 

"You are my boyfriend. I want to carry you, and I want to hold you and take care of you. At least for tonight, let's pretend that it's just us, and no reputation or bravado or any of that meaningless crap that makes your smile look like it's killing you." Steve laid him on the couch, effectively removing Tony's head from his throat, and kissed his lips softly for a long moment, "Tonight, you don't have to worry about how you look or how I look, and we can be here, safe, together." Tony reached out, fisting one hand in his shirt front to pull him back in for another kiss. 

"I trust you, Steve." Tony murmured against his mouth, "And I have trust issues a mile wide…actually, probably longer than that." Tony grinned, tucking Steve's hair back gently, "Anyone else tried to pick me up like that, I'd've fought until they'd dropped me." 

Steve flashed a small smile, "I'm glad you didn't fight." 

"Is there anything I can do?" Tony offered, pouting as Steve left him. 

"You can relax." Steve called back, laughing. "Pick a movie you don't mind not seeing the end of." 

Tony smiled, biting his lip at the promise inherent in that notion. 

By the time they were comfortably arranged on the couch, the ache in Tony's chest had eased astoundingly, fading out to the rhythm of life as it had been: Steve's small, perfect chuckle; the warm burst that filled his chest when he ate anything made by Greta or Steve; the way they naturally flowed and fit around each other, moving as if designed to come together as though magnetized. It was safe and warm and loving here, and Tony could put the grief aside--he could hang on like he'd have a life to come back to when he made his way, once and for all, finally through. He needed to know that. Needed Steve's lips on his hair and his arms solid and wrapped around Tony's chest, one hand over his heart protectively, holding everything at bay and giving Tony the calm before the storm that he needed desperately. Tony lounged back against Steve's chest, sleepy and warm, more okay than he thought he'd be. Steve's fingers raised to start gently carding through his hair, a soothing tug that was fast lulling him off to sleep. 

"Not yet," Tony sighed, reaching up and taking Steve's hand, folding it against his chest.

"You're tired," Steve's lips brushed his ear with the words, his arms bringing Tony in closer like a teddy bear, and it warmed him through like he'd never get cold again, "you're almost exhausted, Tony, and I don't want to see you drop later." Steve pressed a solid kiss to Tony's temple, his fingers caressing over the shell of Tony's ear as they swept through his hair again, massaging just gently at the base of his skull and the back of his neck. 

"Fine, but you should kiss me to sleep." Tony's voice was light, dreamy, and his eyes were already closed as he moved as though magnetized to better get at Steve's lips. 

Tony sighed softly, languishing in the long, soft, lazy kisses that stretched out between them: solid and bordering hot, but not enough to leave Tony achingly desperate for fewer clothes and more moans. Steve rubbed over his chest soothingly, too, so that helped. Tony leaned into his touches; into his warmth, easily relaxing into this moment of simplicity. Peace reigned in Tony's mind until he couldn't flutter his eyes back open between long, drawn-out kisses. Steve shifted, curling around his side more, cradling his long body around him, thighs under Tony's and arm pillowed under his head. 

Nothing could touch them. Nothing could hurt them. Not like this. 

~

The arrival of James Buchanan Barnes three months later was nothing short of catastrophic, and Pepper was in no mood to be forgiving here. 

"Stormy" didn't even cover the red-head's disposition: she was murderous at the very least. 

Peggy scowled at the window over Pepper's shoulder from behind: as close as she and Steve had gotten, when things had ended between him and Tony, she was the first of their merry band of misfits to arrive on the rainy front stoop bearing ice cream and a wrathful look that made Pepper proud to be dating her. Natasha following that, with Clint in tow and Bruce not long after, possibly angrier than all of them combined. Because Bucky Barnes had it in for Tony, in the worst possible way: he'd orchestrated the perfect storm to end things between he and Steve, and then he'd topped it off by cornering Tony, fresh from the break up, with half of the football team. 

By the time Natasha and Thor had pulled them off him, Pepper knew in her heart that he'd only fight back enough to ensure they killed him. She knew from the set of Natasha's shoulders when Peggy and she had sprinted up from being beckoned that she was right, and Natasha cared about either her or Tony enough to be furious about that. 

"I don't know what Barnes has done to him, and I don't care." Bruce finally murmured, and the intensity of his rage was almost terrifying. "Tony, none of this was you--" 

The glassy, blank look on Tony's face didn't crack even a little, and just exchanging looks with Clint was enough to cut off everything else Bruce would've said. 

Tony's nose was broken, his lip torn, his jaw lacerated and bruised and swelling. His right eye was blackened and bloodshot horribly, and Bruce's heart did things to him that he hoped never happened to another human being because Tony was holding himself like he was made of broken glass, and the only way to keep it from piercing him through was to be as still as he could. Bruce couldn't stand the inaction, couldn't let it happen that Tony got hurt like this because Steve had decided that he was all the poisonous things that Bucky had made it clear he thought Tony was. 

Bruce had heard some of it. Tony had pocket-dialled Rhodey, and Rhodey had conference called him. Rhodey had told him he was getting on the next plane, and Bruce told him he'd be there, with Tony. They'd listened as Steve systematically tore at Tony Stark, and even Bruce's heart was broken by the end of it. 

Pepper and Bruce left Tony with Clint, Natasha, and Peggy: his head in Natasha's lap, Peggy petting his hair, and Clint reading aloud from Jane Austen, voices--and accents--included. Natasha was laughing, small and musical, but laughing nonetheless, and Tony had some colour under the tinge of bruises coming into his cheeks and some small hint of life coming back into his eyes. The guilt written on Peggy's face, though--and straining Bruce's--was enough to make Pepper want to punch Steve five times over. 

"He said that Tony was a spoiled, rich little brat. He said that he didn't want to be with someone who didn't help or support him, who just...just used him." Bruce told her urgently, as though trying any harder to make sense of it would make him lose his mind. "Pepper, I've never heard him talk like that--" 

"Bruce...why would Steve break up with Tony?" Her voice told him she already knew the answer, she just needed someone else to follow that string of logic she had, just to prove it could be true. "Bucky is an army brat--"

"And Steve graduated over Christmas." Bruce breathed, his eyes wide and almost unseeing as they neared the Rogers house. 

Bucky's beat-up, red pick-up truck stood in the driveway, and the side door slammed open as Steve shoved through carrying a duffle and his backpack, Greta shrill and wild following him, tripping over her own feet in blind tears as she begged Steve not to do this. 

"He's burning his bridges." 

"Why?" Pepper seethed, pulling up as much as she could before Bucky had whipped the pick-up out of the driveway and nearly collided with them head-on. Greta screamed, haggard and furious, but it wasn't Steve she was mad at: it was completely and utterly Bucky. 

"Because Bucky's dad runs black-ops teams or some shit. The kind that don't let you go." Pepper muttered darkly as she pulled in and turned the car off, getting out and rushing to Greta, wrapping her into a hug. 

Greta opened up the embrace, pulling Bruce into her arms hard and kissing his forehead, "Bruce, he didn't mean it--" 

"He didn't do anything to me...H-He broke up with Tony, though...he broke up with Tony in the worst way--" 

Greta paled, her eyes going wide, "Oh, that poor boy…" She breathed, "Pepper, please, I have to see him." 

Pepper didn't so much as blink, leading her to her car and opening the door for her, Bruce following them. 

"I can't lose you boys…" 

"It'll be okay, Greta." Pepper murmured softly, reaching over to settle her hand over Greta's, eyes on the road. 

Pepper paled as they pulled up to her house. Tony and Clint stood in the mouth of her driveway, Tony's eyes flaming with rage and Clint's eyes almost glassy as he glanced periodically up at the house. Police cars and an ambulance littered the road in front of her house, and Pepper choked slightly as a body bag was pulled up on a stretcher. She pulled over and parked, her hands shaking. It was as if they'd choreographed it as she, Bruce, and Greta got out of the car as one. Tony looked up at them, eyes bloodshot even worse and face pale again, the bruises standing out even worse than they had before. Tony was suddenly in motion, bolting towards her, and she knew. That body bag had someone she loved in it, and it wasn't him, so that left Peggy, and suddenly Pepper didn't have her knees under her anymore. Tony wrapped around her from in front, and Bruce supported her from behind. 

"Pep...fuck, Pep. I'm sorry." Tony's hand tangled in her hair, and Pepper couldn't breathe, pressing her face into his throat as if she could hide there. "Peggy came out to get some air...we heard screeching tires and the crash...Pep, I'm so fucking sorry…" 

Pepper hugged Tony tight, a scream bubbling up in her so painfully she thought she was going to explode. 

Tony stroked through Pepper's hair, kissing her cheek, "Breathe, Pep…" He murmured, and this was why she was best friends with Tony. For as busy and inconsiderate as his brain sometimes made him, he'd fight for you until he bled out, and then he'd figure out a way to come back from the dead and fight for you some more. Pepper clung onto the fabric of the back of Tony's shirt, crying into his neck as he soothed her. Bruce and Greta were joined slowly by Clint, all pale and horrified. 

Lightly, Greta began to stroke Pepper's hair, leaning in to rest her forehead against Pepper's cheekbone. Tony was crying with her, holding on tight, because he knew how much it hurt, knew better than any of them. Slowly, he gathered the both of them up, trailing the others along as he led her inside. Clint shifted around them, heading off the police with a polite "She was her girlfriend." 

Natasha stepped forwards, wrapping Pepper up in her arms the moment the door closed behind them all, holding both Pepper and Tony. "It's okay, Tash." Tony murmured, rubbing her back lightly. 

They migrated into the living room, Natasha and Pepper sitting down almost on top of each other, but Tony stayed standing, turning to Greta and looking her over carefully before pulling her into a hug. "Steve's enlisting with Bucky, isn't he?" Greta nodded against his collarbone, and Tony sighed, "Bruce, would you help me out, I think we could all use a drink?" 

Bruce trailed Tony into the kitchen, watching him carefully, "Tony, this more than anything else should prove to you that it wasn't anything to do with you--" 

"It has everything to do with me, Bruce." Tony snapped, his eyes hard and dark and completely changed from the soft, chocolate-brown eyes Tony had once boasted, "He was right, I didn't support him. I really didn't. But it doesn't matter now. I'll support him in the only way I can anymore." The harsh note to Tony's voice filled Bruce with dread. 

"You're going to--" 

"I'm going to make weapons, Bruce. I'm going to do what every Stark, ever, was meant to do, and now that I think about, I don't know why it's taken me so damn long to see that it has to be this way--" 

"Tony--" 

"No. No, I was born to do this, I shouldn't fight it anymore. I was selfish with him. I wanted him safe, alive, with me. Now he won't be with me; he's not going to stay safe, so the only thing I have left is alive, and I will not fail him there." 

Bruce stared into Tony's blazing, all-consuming eyes for a long moment, silenced. Nodding slowly, Bruce looked down at his hands, frowning. Tony stepped around him with the drinks, and Bruce closed his eyes, "He loves you, Tony. I know him, he won't stop." 

Tony didn't hear him, and he didn't need to. Bruce sighed quietly, gathering himself back up. 

Bruce moved to the back door, pulling out his phone in desperate need of Rhodey's voice, at the very least. He didn't know what else to do. 

"Bruce? Babe, I'm about to board." The underlying "what's wrong?" made Bruce painfully thankful for his boyfriend. 

"Pepper's girlfriend just got run over, Rhodey. She's dead, and Pepper's going insane, and Tony's...shit, Rhodey, I don't know what to do." Bruce's legs gave out on him, dumping him into a chair. 

Rhodey didn't miss a beat, "You breathe, babe. You breathe and get them through it until I'm there to help you. Tony will hold his shit together for Pep, for a while at least, but he's going to be self-destructive as fuck." 

Bruce let out a short, pained laugh, "I know. He nearly got beaten to death already. But it was Bucky Barnes that caused that more than Tony." 

Rhodey's silence was enough to let Bruce know he was holding back anger, and Bruce felt grateful for him all over again, "Just get him through until tomorrow. I'll be arriving at three in the afternoon--"

"We'll be at the airport waiting for you. It'll be easy to recognize me, I'll be running full-boar into your arms and crying because, fuck, Rhodey, I don't--" 

"Bruce, breathe. Together. We will get through this, you and me, together. I love you, babe, you gotta hold out." Bruce squeezed his eyes shut, his throat working. 

"I wanna...I wanna punch something...I want to scream--" 

"You're not doing either, Bruce; you're doing wonderfully. You called me." Rhodey breathed, voice wondering, and Bruce laughed, hysterical and edging with tears. 

"I don't have to be afraid." 

"I'll protect you." Rhodey agreed smoothly, a small smile in his voice, and Bruce felt his anger run out of him, leaving him empty and tired. 

"You'll even protect me from me, huh?" 

"You're stronger than you think, Bruce, and I'm with you no matter what." 

"I love you." Bruce whispered. 

"I know, babe. I've gotta get on the plane now, but go gather Pep and Tony up and give 'em a hug for me. I'll see about calling you in the air." 

Bruce nodded, "I will. Thanks, Rhodey." 

"I'll be there soon." 

"I'll be waiting." 

Rhodey pulled himself to his feet, worried to his very core about his best friends and boyfriend. 

Bruce had become a divining force in Rhodey's life, just as Tony had; leading him to Bruce and Steve--though that would turn out far more detrimental that Rhodey had thought when he'd met the mild-mannered young boyfriend to his best friend--and driving him through hell and high water to become the man he was meant to be. Tony had set the background; Bruce was setting his future. Bruce was the goal. Keeping Tony alive; helping Pepper stay sane--everything else that James Rhodes had riding on his shoulders--that was all secondary. It was silly and foolish and probably incredibly stupid, but Rhodey thought of Bruce grinning and coughing and laughing with Clint and Tony and Jane around some explosion or another, and Rhodey felt like it was an actual home for the first time in his long-travelled life. 

Being an army brat was a hard way to go through life, but he'd been built for it, and it had never once mattered. Not until he'd met Tony, instantly his best friend; and then Pepper, an instant force of nature that he liked to be at the landing site of, always; and now Bruce, who was turning out to be a weakness like Rhodey had never thought he'd have before. He wanted to be stationary; he wanted to be with his friends--maybe almost more than he wanted to follow in his father's footsteps. 

Bruce and he didn't talk about it. Tony would avoid it like the plague. Pepper wasn't someone he could talk to about this. He wondered idly if Bruce would still call him to calm down if he was in basic training. 

It made him feel grounded--needed and whole, that Bruce needed his help to calm himself down. To stop himself from turning into the monster that his father had been under the influence of anger. Rhodey honestly yearned for Bruce to careen into him at the airport. It'd make them both feel better. 

Leaning back, Rhodey closed his eyes and made plans to tear Steve limb from limb. Tony did not deserve this shit. Steve had already lost whatever honour he'd gained from joining the service he'd lost pulling this stunt. 

And Pepper...Good Lord, whatever higher power thought it was a good idea fucking with Pepper like this was going to be in a world of hurt when she tracked them down. The situation with Tony would've knocked her control; adding to it with her girlfriend would cause a spiral the likes of which Rhodey would be very happy not to ever, ever see. 

He'd be back with Bruce, and together they could take care of all the people they needed to take care of, and they could keep Tony and Pepper on their feet. 

~

Natasha's bottle-green eyes flicked up to Coulson's face briefly. He dumped himself, bonelessly exhausted, into the couch, and she unfolded her legs to rest over his thighs to give him something steadying. "James Buchanan Barnes turned himself in with regards to Peggy Carter's hit and run." Natasha told him his own news in a deadly calm, unsurprised voice. 

"I'm betting it was because Steve Rogers was in the car with him." Coulson agreed, leaning his head back and closing his aching eyes. 

"He'll be out before Steve's even on the plane." Natasha intoned. 

"Most likely. They'll employ him as a sniper...something like that." 

"They won't tell Steve." 

"Of course not. Why would they tell their team leader they've got a potentially dangerous guardian angel over his shoulder?"

Natasha looked at him sharply, eyes wide, "They'll give him his own command?" 

"Word is his group's been dubbed the Howling Commandos. Strictly merc jobs, easy to disavow." 

"Does Steve know this is what he's signed up for?" 

Coulson sighed, "One can only...hope…" Natasha didn't wake him, as she left, barely stirring the air, like the flap of a moth's wing. 

Clint met her eyes from where he was pounding into a punching bag with all the force behind his muscular arms, "You need hand-to-hand instead of the range." 

"Range is for when I don't want to think. This...this I need to think about." Clint grunted, panting lightly as sweat beaded and slid down his skin. 

"Your friends got hurt today…" 

"Our." Clint snarled, "Our friends got hurt. For as mean as you are to Tony, you care about him more than you'll ever admit, and I see the way you look at Pepper, don't pretend you don't look at her like you love her." 

Natasha's jaw tightened, something like a growl rising in her chest, "Clint--"

"No, Tash. I'm...I'm fucking in love with Phil fucking Coulson, and I'm sick and tired of pretending not to be, and getting my heart kicked around like a fucking hackisac. Tony got torn apart, and then told that yet another person he loves is going off on some suicide mission because that's the only way they'd let him into the army under the circumstances, and then Pepper...fucking hell, Pepper's girlfriend, whom she loved--and whom you loved, I might add--got fucking run over! Tash, you can't hide from me; you can't hide from him. We...we fucking need each other, all of us, right now, you're not allowed to pull away. I won't let you." Clint shook his head, shaking his whole body out a little, and continued to batter the punching bag into submission. "Get angry, get scared, but you pull away and I will drag your ass back no matter how hard you beat me." 

Natasha's tiny, pale hand whipped out, catching the next blow before it landed on the punching bag, her eyes staring up at him, "You should go shower. Coulson's asleep on the couch. I'm not strong enough to carry him to bed." The silent you are hung in the air as she swayed her hips out of the door, leaving Clint staring after her for a minute. 

Clint did as she ordered, showering quickly and changing from work-out clothes into lay-around clothes that were almost the same, but clean. Clint's breath caught as he broached the doorway, taking in the tilt of Coulson's head against the back of the couch and the sprawl of his limbs. Coulson's worried lines didn't even fade in sleep, and Clint felt a jab of pain seeing that. 

Normally, Coulson was so light of a sleeper you couldn't so much as breathe near his bedroom door without him being awake and aware of your presence, but this was different. In the exhaustion, Coulson had slipped into dreams; into nightmares, and he couldn't battle his way out. 

Gently, Clint scooped up Coulson's head, laying it against his arm as he slipped his other arm under Coulson's knees, picking him up bridal-style. Coulson's body tensed, and Clint let out a soft, worried hum--which was enough to force Coulson lax again, safely asleep in Clint's arms. With a ghostly grace that Clint had learned from his roommate and their keeper, Clint stole through the house to Coulson's bedroom, the door partially cracked--definitely Natasha's doing--and easily nudged open. 

Stirring slightly, Coulson gripped Clint's shirt for a moment, muttering in his sleep. Clint reached up, taking Coulson's hand in both of his and slowly easing it from its death grip, laying it down against the bed. 

Clint dispatched of Coulson's shoes, placing them neatly under a chair next to his closet and turning to take a last look at Phil Coulson's sleeping face. 

Giving a small start as Natasha slipped in, Clint cocked his head, watching her slip into bed on the other side from where Clint stood, laying down against Coulson's arm and looking up at him with a dare to disobey in her eyes. Clint frowned, silently asking her what the fuck, and she simply cocked an eyebrow, rolling her eyes as Coulson murmured again, "Need…" 

Clint crossed to the other side of the bed, climbing in on the other side and trying not to laugh at the childishness of it; the innocence. Naturally, Clint's hand came to rest over Coulson's chest, above his heart, and Coulson let out a comforted sigh, releasing into the bed and into dreamless sleep, Natasha's hand resting over Clint's as her eyes closed and the rhythm of two sleeping people brought the third along for the ride. 

When Clint began to wake in slow, grudging increments, there were powerful arms wrapped around him, and his head was cradled against a slow, steady heartbeat with Phil's fingers threaded lightly through his hair. Clint found one of his hands loosely placed where it'd gripped onto Phil's suit jacket, and their legs were a tangle. Clint couldn't say for sure, Phil was blocking his view of the other half of the bed, but he was fairly certain Tasha wouldn't be on the other half of the bed. 

"You're awake." Phil murmured, voice high and thin with sleep. 

Clint hummed, groaning. "This was totally Natasha's doing. She was here." 

"She's not here anymore." 

"I kind of figured." Clint sighed, stretching lightly and yawning. He hated naps. He'd sleep forever if given the chance. Yeah. Yeah, forever sounded just wonderful. Much better than having to talk to Phil, "She did it because I...because I have a crush on you." 

Around him Coulson flinched, his hold loosening and slowly drawing away like it hadn't up until this point. Clint had to focus on not pouting and not letting his mind question why the fuck that was, "No, I believe she did it because she's sick and tired of hearing it from the both of us that the other is too frustratingly attractive." 

For a good forty-three seconds, Clint was pretty sure he ceased to so much as exist. Then he was twisting and rising up, falling down on top of Phil and kissing him. 

It took a long while before either of them could convince Clint to let the kisses break for more than the time it took for a frantic breath, but together they did. Phil's fingertips ran back and forth over Clint's jaw as he looked at him with amusement hiding in his eyes, "When Natasha gets old enough--" 

"She's leaving. You and I are going with her." Clint told him with absolute certainty, voice excited. His lips twitched up no matter how hard he fought it, and Phil's pulled just slightly up in return. 

"I have something for you…" Phil told him, drawing his limbs into position to push himself up. Clint followed him off the bed, curious. Coulson bent just inside the walk-in closet, hefting something and bringing it to Clint's lap, "I had to get Tash to steal the plans after that stunt Sitwell pulled…" Clint felt as if he'd go into shock, his hands moving to unwrap the plain brown paper package. His bow--fuck, his quiver, too--laid in the box in his lap, waiting for his hands. "From what I understand, the arrows are screwed into their heads individually?" Clint nodded, too shocked for speech, "I figured you'd be the better judge of the materials for them...do--?"

Clint cut Phil off with a hard, shocking kiss, taking every advantage he was given as he kissed ruthlessly and Phil tried to catch up, "I love it...fuck, I love it so much…" Clint murmured against Phil's mouth, shoving the box blindly on the bed next to him to push Phil on the other side and climb onto his lap. "Thank you...I love you...thank you." 

Phil smiled, and Natasha slunk silently away from the cracked door, silently gloating. 

Tony glanced up at her as she crossed to her favourite couch in the library, "You look like a cat that caught the favoured canary, Tash." 

"You look like you've sociopathically decided to make weapons of mass destruction." 

Tony shrugged fluidly, "I also look like I stayed up all night holding Pepper Potts as she cried." Natasha hid her flinch by draping herself into her seat, "You know about Steve." 

"I know that he'll be taken care of, and I know that he'll survive. Will you?" 

Tony smirked, "You almost seem genuinely worried, Tash," he scolded mockingly, and Natasha was almost furious: she was worried. 

"He won't stop loving you." 

Tony's face darkened, "He already has." 

Natasha tilted her head, her blood-red curls falling along one porcelain-pale shoulder, "You know something." 

"He's gone to get himself killed. He's decided that hurting everyone who loves him is the best way to get them to stop loving him, which is meant to help us get over it if he dies, because even he understands that he's signed up for a team that will probably leave him dead before he ever gets to leave it." 

Natasha quirked an eyebrow, "You're Tony Stark, stop him." 

Tony laughed once, completely humourless, "I stop him, and he'll never forgive me. The only thing I can do for him now is make the weapons that will keep him safe." Natasha pursed her lips, the message clear that she didn't believe that one little bit, "Don’t." Natasha shrugged fluidly in response, letting it go. 

"Is Pepper…?" 

"She's unconscious."

"It was bad." 

"It was as bad as I'd think it'd be." 

"Remind me not to tell you if Steve dies." 

Tony's eyes flashed the hurt, but he remained silent, subsiding back into the chair a little further, "I think you're right. I don't want to know." 

Natasha reached her hand out, taking Tony's, "I have every faith you'll get through this, and that you'll get Pepper through this." Tony's eyes flashed up to her, and she shook her head. No, she wouldn't be staying long enough to help. 

Tony frowned, "You're making a mistake." 

"We both are." 

"Are you prepared to live with yours?" 

"Mine isn't the difficult pill to swallow, Stark." 

"No, you're just leaving someone behind to wonder if you'll make it through." 

"There's really not much chance of me dying, Stark."

"But there's still a chance, now, isn't there?" 

Natasha quirked her eyebrow, "You could make the weapons to protect me, too." 

"I've already started to, Tash. Where do you think Coulson got that pretty bow and quiver?" 

Tony smirked at her, wolfish and wild in a way that he hadn't been until now. The Tony Stark they'd known was all but gone, and Natasha kind of wanted to tear Steve apart for causing that. She knew she wouldn't, though. As wrong as it was, Tony was right in believing in Steve's choice. 

"I have to go. Bruce wants me to report to Rhodey when he gets off the plane." 

Natasha frowned, "You should be with Pepper, not watching them make out." 

Tony shrugged, "My thoughts exactly." 

"I'll call Bruce, he'll trust me more than he will you right now." 

"Trust? No. Believe in the advice to keep me alive on? Yes. He still loves me best." 

"We all love you in our ways, Tony." 

"I won't give up." Not yet. 

Bruce answered the phone on the third ring, sounding beyond his years, "What's up, Tash?" 

"Tony and I want him to stay with Pepper when you pick up Rhodes. It'll give you two some time to un-couple, and both of them need sleep--Stark, you will get sleep or I will put you to sleep, and don't think I won't." Bruce smiled at that, shaking his head lightly. 

"Yeah, Tash, you're right. Tony should be with Pep." 

Bruce relaxed, watching the plane disembark two hours early, relief flooding him as Rhodey turned tired but equally relieved eyes on him. Bruce took off running, trying desperately not to but failing as he flew into Rhodey's arms, laughing as Rhodey's arms wrapped shakily around him. 

"I just got a call from Natasha ordering me not to bring Tony 'cause he should stick with Pepper." 

"Pepper was crying all night, huh?" Bruce nodded affirmation, reaching for Rhodey's carry-on and shooting him a look as Rhodey tried to get him to just leave it. Bruce's hand wrapped around Rhodey's as they moved through the throngs of people in the arrivals gate, headed for the elevators to Bruce's car that used to be Steve's. "They're not expecting you for another two hours--" 

"Cheesiest line you'll ever hear from me: climb into the back with me, babe." Rhodey grinned, exhausted, and Bruce laughed a little manically, strung out.

Bruce nodded, stowing the carry on and trying--and failing--to take Rhodey's case before he did the heavy lifting to get it in the back, too. Bruce reached for Rhodey's hand, sliding into the back and pulling Rhodey into his arms immediately. Reaching over, Bruce opened the windows, Rhodey following suit on the other side before he settled back into Bruce's arms and laid his head on Bruce's chest, a steadying weight to keep him grounded and in control. 

"Tell me." Rhodey breathed, running his fingers between Bruce's before he bent to press his lips to Bruce's knuckles. 

"I'm going insane. Pepper's probably so dehydrated that she resembles a raisin from all the crying, and Tony's a shadow or a skeleton, and it's Halloween so he's a shadow or skeleton that intends to party hard and go out with a bang. And I...I just…" Bruce's hand tightened on Rhodey's chest, and Rhodey smiled slightly. 

"Alright, let's put worrying about me aside: I'm here, I'm yours, we're good on that front. Let it go." Bruce sighed, shifting ingeniously and Rhodey found himself almost entirely on top of Bruce, wrapped up in strong arms. "Next item is Tony: he'll get through. Trust me, it doesn't feel like it, but I have known that boy for forever, and he's come home shell-shocked and crying, but that just makes him angrier and more determined to fight back. Worry about the people who try to mess with him now Steve's gone and the shock's worn off." Bruce didn't relax this time, but he smiled, and that was almost as good. "Now, Tony is very smart and very capable and has been hospitalized before for dehydration. Tony will take shockingly good care of Pepper. He'd take shockingly good care of everyone he loves if given the chance, but possibly especially her."

Bruce sighed, relaxing and letting Rhodey's weight settle completely and melt them together. 

"Greta will kick Steve's ass, and Steve will be around for her to kick it, Bruce, you just keep being her son, and keep bringing Tony back to her. He needs a mom." 

"She'd kick my ass if I didn't." Bruce agreed, his eyes closing. Rhodey smiled as his own closed, too. "I do find it worrying, though, that you still haven't kissed me yet." Bruce smirked as Rhodey lifted his head, a small smile quirking his lips. 

Rhodey teased gently before kissing him soft and sweet, taking his time with Bruce's mouth. "I love you, B." 

"I love you, too. Now sleep." Settling so that Bruce was framing Rhodey between his body and the back of the wide back seat, Bruce reached his fingers to trail through Rhodey's hair soothingly, in just the way that put him to sleep without fail. 

"Cheater."

"Hush, it's for your own good." Smirking, Bruce pressed his lips to Rhodey's forehead, enjoying the peace. 

~

"You're spooning me." 

"You have a problem with that, you can take it up with the Russian assassin." 

Pepper smiled, still not opening her eyes, "I always thought you'd be the little spoon, though." 

"Shuddup." Tony groaned, and she grinned wider at the sound of him pouting. 

"I can be a little spoon for you if you want." Clint volunteered from where he lurked at Pepper's doorway, and both of the occupants in the bed jumped in surprise. 

"Actually, I think that'd be nice." Pepper managed in a high, tight voice, "Thanks, Clint." The words were sobbed into Clint's shoulder blade, and he reached behind himself to gather her hand up, pulling her arm over his side and laying his hand over hers against his stomach. 

"You're now trapped between immature and immature-er." Tony snorted, and Pepper sobbed a laugh, squeezing lightly her hold on Clint and pushing back against Tony as his arm tightened around her. 

Gently, Tony's clever fingers lifted Pepper's hair away from her neck, kissing where her neck curved into her shoulder, sliding forward to curve at her back. Pepper opened herself to it, letting the grief happen, like Tony had told her to. "We're here. We’re all going to stick together." Clint murmured.

Pepper nodded, tears running down her face as she pouted slightly. 

"And, later, we can put you in a padded room and you can throw things at the walls." Clint said the words like he was offering a puppy a bone, and Pepper sobbed another string of laughter. 

"I've got a few things that need durability testing." Tony agreed, and Pepper smiled around her tears. 

Tony's fingers pet through her hair soothingly, and Pepper sighed, closing her eyes, "Where's Tasha…?" she sighed. 

She was asleep before she could realize both boys were frowning rather than answering. 

Softly, the door swung open, Rhodey poking his head inside with Bruce on his heels. "Oooh, snuggles." 

"We are all not overly gigantic people, but I don't think this bed was built for orgies." Tony snickered. Clint snorted, nodding his agreement, and Pepper sighed between them, out cold. 

"Mores the pity, Stark." Clint laughed on a whisper. Gently, he slipped from Pepper's hold, replacing himself with a pillow that she curled into willingly, humming. Her shift freed Tony's arms from around her, and, with one last tuck of her strawberry-blond hair, Tony slipped from bed, too, slipping out behind Clint. 

"Oh, God, do I smell coffee?" Tony whispered as if it were the greatest thing in the universe, and Rhodey and Bruce grinned. 

Rhodey slung his arm across Tony's shoulders, smiling gently, "You look like hell warmed over." 

"I feel like hell warmed over, so that works." Tony shrugged, his lips pulling up into a half-smirk. 

"Pepper's parents are--" 

"In Guam, I think. Looking at the aboriginal art." 

Rhodey's look of "please be fucking with me" met Tony's shrug of "I don't know, man, it's her parents", and neither of them were surprised by this. 

Clint shook his head, "Will they be back by graduation?" 

"Nope." Both Rhodey and Tony replied flippantly, so assured Clint felt a little sick. 

"How come it is that Clint and I are the only two true orphans of our merry gang of thieves, but we've got parental figures coming to grad when no else's parents are fussed to show up?" Tony babbled, curving his body around his cup of coffee as if it'd protect him from everything. 

"Greta is a mother to us all, and Coulson's not showing up for me." 

Tony glanced at him shrewdly, and Clint inwardly winced as knowledge flashed behind Tony's dark eyes. Tony stayed silent, drinking with a pleased hum. 

Bruce and Tony moved to start on something for dinner, talking and laughing, and Clint covertly stole Rhodey away, leading him down the hallway until they would be out of earshot of Tony and Bruce. 

Rhodey's features darkened like he knew what was coming before Clint even began filling him in on the full story. 

Rhodey's jaw was working, his eyes flashing dangerously as he glanced back towards the kitchen, "Tell Tony you and I are going to go get dessert for Pep." 

"I always figured I'd be seeing the inside of that jail…" Clint sighed, and Rhodey had to smile. Cold and dark, but a smile. 

Clint and Rhodey worked shockingly well together, especially when Rhodey caught sight of Steve in front of the police station. 

Swinging out of the car, Rhodey emerged from being Tony Stark's reserved and well-kept best friend, expanding and blooming up and out of himself until he was an avenging angel; a true soldier and a man meant for honour and strength and brotherhood. Steve caught sight of him and tried to bring himself out like a phoenix from the ashes of himself, but it wasn't coming. Rhodey was fire and rage, and Steve was a spark where Rhodey was blazing brighter than an inferno. 

Clint moved, a silent shadow or a curl of smoke, easily working around and through and with Rhodey as he strode towards Steve with vicious intent. Clint slid, unnoticed and unnoticable into the tiny police station, stopping only at the sight of Natasha's diminutive form standing perfectly still at the entrance to the holding cells. 

From the front of the station, Rhodey could be heard roaring, "YOU DESERVE NOTHING, AND YOU SURE AS SHIT DON'T DESERVE THE HEART HE GAVE YOU!" 

"You know, I'm not sure on the legislation. Scaring him to death might still be murder, Tash." Clint muttered. 

"And what were you going to do, Clint?" 

"Maim him a little, I s'pose." 

Natasha's head had turned slightly, tilting her body slightly towards him, and Clint knew he had her, "What if it's for the best if we let him live?" 

Clint raised his brows, but wasn't actually surprised, "Phil'd be proud." 

Natasha took another step forward, her voice dark and deadly in and of itself as she turned her full attention to the man that still couldn't see her from his cell, "One day, you will pay the debt you owe. You will give more than you thought you'd ever want to give. One day, you will learn your lesson; and the day you do, you'd do well to pray it's not your last." 

Clint trailed her out from the station as Rhodey ended his tirade, Steve looking more beaten than he would've had Rhodey raised a fist to him. 

Natasha could hide her approving glint to everyone but Clint, and he smiled a copy of the same "come at me, fucker" smile Tony would flash when he was feeling invincible. 

Steve leaned back against the side of Bucky's father's sleek, black car, pale and sick and in need of a time machine; anything to take it all back. 

As Rhodey, Clint, and Natasha sped away, Steve's resolve solidified in his chest: He would love Tony for as long as he lived; and he'd fool himself into believing that Tony would love him that long, too. 

He didn't have a choice. He really didn't. He was meant to fight for his country, just like his father had. 

Tony, though...God, it felt like Tony was meant to be there, in his life, more than even the service did, and while that thrilled him...no one found their true love at eighteen, and it was a mistake to even think that. Tony was so young, and while he seemed to know worlds that were so far beyond what Steve would ever be able to grasp, he was only a kid. A kid who'd turned his back on his family. 

\--But, fucking hell, had he?! Had he really, Steve? 

He'd turned his back on people who wouldn't look at him and accept him. He'd turned his back on a life that could've killed him, and would've poisoned him. 

He'd given up everything to be with Steve, and then Steve had just...just thrown it in his face that he'd done it. That he'd turned away from his father and his family and this huge empire of responsibility. Tony would've turned his back on everything

Steve had convinced himself--Bucky had convinced him, but that was besides the point, the seed was there to start with--that he'd been doing the right thing. Tony needed to live the life he was born to live; and the youthful dream of being together forever, that was bound to fade, especially when Tony looked at all it was that he'd given up. A life that would've gotten Tony bored of Steve so fast. 

Tony had turned his back on the better prospect. He had to put Tony back on the right path to be on. He'd had to. It was the right thing to do, for the man he loved. 

He could only hope Tony wouldn't let it corrupt him; that he'd keep down the path of technology rather than destruction. 

Steve left with Bucky's father as a sleek, black car pulled in the lot: Obediah Stane paying the debt he owed and getting Bucky out for Bucky having gotten Steve away from Tony. There would be balance: he would have his golden goose, and all would be right in the world so long as Tony Stark's mind belonged to him. 

~

Clint felt like he'd been punched, and Tony scowled unrestrainedly at Vice Principal Hill. "Clint Barton's graduation has yet to be determined--" 

"What are you talking about?" Tony growled. Clint withdrew from the table, disengaging.

"Sitwell accused me of plagiarism." Clint sighed, and Tony puffed up beside him with fire and wrath. 

"That is an underhanded form of trickery!" Thor boomed, eyes large and wild with rage. 

"I will sort it out, Mr. Odinson, Mr. Stark." Phil Coulson's cool, unfeeling voice made Hill stiffen slightly, knowing the storm that was brewing for Fury. 

"Thank you, Mr. Coulson." Clint murmured, voice tight and grateful. 

Coulson turned his guileless grey eyes from him to Hill, and Clint felt calmness wash over him with the knowledge that Phil Coulson had his back. Subtly, Clint felt the back of his hand brushed with Phil's fingers, and he smiled, genuinely happy, and the small flinch of Coulson's lips translating to an outright beam in response. 

Grumbling, Tony, Pepper and he moved away from the table set up with caps and gowns, joining Bruce and Rhodey, and Jane and Thor in the common area, Tony flopping down so he sat on Pepper, propped his legs over Clint, and had his head in Rhodey's lap, grinning. Bruce rolled his eyes, but smiled, too, just as Darcy snapped a photo from behind Thor and Jane. 

"Ew, paparazzi!" Tony squealed, hiding his eyes like a mole. 

"Suck it up, buttercup, you're graduating into the life you should start living it now." 

"Uh-huh, because we get taught so much about paying taxes, balancing check books, managing finances, cooking for ourselves...you know, all those things we really don't need to know in order to be grown up!" 

Rhodey patted Tony's forehead consolingly, "You own Stark Industries. In all likelihood, you could buy yourself a country." 

Tony turned to look at Pepper, "I want one--" 

"No." 

Clint giggled, patting Tony's calf consolingly.

From the corner of Clint's eye, he caught sight of a flash of black and green, and something in him broke into dead panic. 

Tony was up and off them all in a moment, and Clint was already standing and moving the next. "Clint!" 

It didn't matter. Loki had just passed them, and he was headed towards the front office, and something in Clint was screaming that there was going to be something horribly wrong. 

There was a slightly flash of silver, and Clint missed the beat that he should have caught as he looked up to see who the knife would be going into the back of. 

Clint screamed with such painfully intense rage that it sounded like Hell had come crawling up through the belly of the school. 

Phil fell.


End file.
